Murder U
by Ardeth Saunders
Summary: Professors and students begin turning up missing and are later found dead. It’s up to the UC team to figure out the mystery. [WARNING: Loralei and Donovan fic alert!]
1. First Day Jitters

**TITLE****:  "Murder U"**

**AUTHOR****:  Ardeth Saunders [a.k.a., Cruecial or Cruecial411]**

**RATING****:  PG [Language, violence, and adult content]**

**SUMMARY****:  Professors and students begin turning up missing and are later found dead.  It's up to the UC team to figure out the mystery.    **

**GENRE****:  Drama, Suspense, Action, and Romance  **

**DISCLAIMER****:  _UC:  Undercover_ and its cast of characters belong to the writers, creators, NBC, and a dozen others.  NO infringement intended.  All other original characters belong solely to the sick, twisted, and vivid imagination of the author.**

**AUTHOR'S NOTE****:  They're baaaaaaaaaaaaack.  Loralei and Frank that is.  RnR if you please.  I appreciate all the feedback I have received in the past, positive as well as negative.**

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FIRST DAY JITTERS 

The clock had been screaming at her for a good thirty minutes.  She hated the damn thing, would never have it in the room if wasn't absolutely necessary.  It had taken hours for Loralei to fall asleep.  The night before, she had been a nervous wreck.  In between panic attacks, she and Donovan had taken turns taking care of their fussy son.  Like Rachel, he had no trouble making his presence known.  She didn't want to move, didn't want to get out of bed.  Today, she was supposed to start her assistant professorship at Mord University.  It was a small school and not exactly Harvard or Yale, but it was a great start.  Loralei's doctorate had collected a bit of dust since graduation.  Of course, she had had several loving and important distractions:  Donovan, Rachel, and Tristan.  As she had joked dozens of times with her husband, she finally found a school totally desperate for new blood.  _Ugh_.  She vaguely wondered if she could put off work until tomorrow.  She was nervous and exhausted.  What the hell had she been thinking?  She wasn't ready for this, wasn't ready to go to work.  She had extreme issues with leaving the babies.  She had basically been a stay at home mom for some time and the thought of leaving her children behind for hours at a stretch didn't sit well with her.  Although she had hidden from her husband, she spent some time bawling in the bathroom because of the changing roles in her life.  She wanted the job, wanted to be active and use her degree, but goddamn, why couldn't she take her kids with her?  Was that too much to ask?  

She sighed and turned to her back, refusing to open her eyes.  In Tristan's room across the hall, she could hear his lusty cries and the hushed tones of Donovan's voice as he tried to soothe the baby.  She again found herself thanking the higher powers for giving her a man so considerate and loving with his children.  At times, he made life so much easier for her.  She knew that eventually, she would have to get up.  It wouldn't take long for Rachel to awaken and demand equal attention.  Since Tristan's birth, she no longer had the complete attention of both parents, and she was often jealous.  They both tried to spend enough time with her to keep her from feeling neglected.  Loralei groaned.  The clock wasn't going to stop buzzing.  It would buzz for an eternity.  She once asked her husband where he found an alarm clock devoid of a snooze button.  _I'll never tell_, he had said wickedly.  Growling, she sat up and shut off the annoying alarm before she threw the clock across the room.  She reached down to the foot of the bed and grabbed her robe.  After slipping into it, she stepped out in the hallway and peeked in at Rachel.  She was still sleeping deeply.  Poor kid.  Loralei noticed that when she was restless, her daughter was as well.  She moved down to Tristan's room and stood at the open doorway with a smile on her face.  The baby was almost asleep.  Tristan lay against Donovan, his little head against his father's shoulder.  When Donovan noticed Loralei, he smiled a little and moved to lay the baby back in his crib.  Loralei approached her husband and wrapped her arm around his waist.  He kissed her temple and drew her close.  Rachel had inherited Donovan's hair and skin tone.  Tristan had gotten Loralei's hair, Donovan's skin tone, and his eyes.  Both of them were beautiful little miracles.  They lingered only a moment longer.  If he sensed their presence, he'd awaken and resume his fussy cries.  The two of them left the room and walked back into their own.

Donovan said nothing as he watched Loralei strip of out her robe and skimpy nightgown.  She went into the bathroom and a moment later, she turned on the shower.  He smiled a little.  She was a complete nervous wreck and she was trying so hard to hide it.  Loralei had barely gotten under the spray when she heard the shower door opening.  She turned her head and smiled at Donovan over her shoulder.  He returned her smile and laid his hands on her shoulders.  She was so worked up and stressed out.  He hadn't seen her this nervous in months.  She sighed a little as his hands began to work out the tension in her knotted up muscles.  Oh.  His hands were magic.  

"You're going to be fine, Loralei," he said.

"So say you," she said with a sigh.

He placed a gentle kiss on her shoulder.  "You are such a pessimist, baby.  You know your shit.  Why don't I slip away from work today and take you out to lunch, Doctor Donovan?"

She laughed.  "Sure, Stud.  But it's Doctor Kadin."

His lips pressed against the side of her neck.  "That hurts," he said.  "You are so denying me," he whined playfully.

"Am not," she said with a giggle.  "I told you, my initials are already an abbreviation of a hallucinogenic drug.  Now you want me to add another 'D' to the mix?  DLSD?  You are so cruel to your wife.  Why couldn't your name be something like Jones?"  She turned toward him and placed a gentle kiss on his lips.  "Okay, okay.  How bout I hyphenate my name?"

He smiled.  "That'll work."

*  *  *

He stood outside the sprawling university complex.  When he first arrived on campus, he basically just walked around and goggled at all the structures.  He couldn't believe that just three or four weeks ago, he had actually worked here.  What had happened to his status?  Where had it gone?  He had been teaching at Mord University for at least twenty years and a little mistake had ruined everything for him.  He was booted right out on his ass.  The university needed new blood, new professors.  They had actually hired five since he was asked to vacate his office.  Who were they?  There were three men and two women.  He hated them all.  He hated the administration more.  There were a couple of folks sitting on that panel whom needed to meet him face to face and explain themselves.  How could the school dump a professor with experience only to hire a bunch of green horns?  It wasn't right.  Who should he see first?  Dean Fehr?  President Metzger?  Who?  The Dean was actually the one who fired him, but the entire faculty and staff had supported it.  He wanted nothing more than a few answers.

*  *  *

Loralei was up to her elbows in papers and books.  She hadn't had this much shit around her since she graduated.  There were so many things going on, so much stuff to remember.  Dean Fehr had conferred with her earlier [strangely, he kind of looked like her husband…she intended to ask Donovan if he had a triplet wandering around out there] and had given her three classes to start.  She was still in her probationary period and if she managed to get through one semester alive and sane, Fehr would stack even more on her.  Oh well.  She didn't mind.  She'd stay busy and she liked staying busy.  She sat flipping through her class roster when she heard a hollow peck on her doorframe.  She looked up at her husband and smiled.  Noon on the dot.  

"You be so anal," she said.

He shrugged.  "Get used to it.  You have many, many years ahead of you to deal with it," he said with a smile.  "Damn.  I didn't know you'd get your own office with a name plate and everything."  The letters were tiny, but he made out _L. Donovan_.  "You used it after all, you tease, and here I thought you were rejecting me."  

He entered her office and didn't hesitate to shove a few items aside so that he could find a spot to accommodate his ass.  She shook her head.  "You're an inconsiderate jerk.  But since I've done the very same to your desk, I guess it's proper that you pay me back?"  He shrugged without saying a word.  She shook her head again, stood up, and slapped her flat open palm on his knee.  She inserted herself between his legs.  "So Studly, where are you taking me to eat?"

"I never thought my wife was an exhibitionist," he said, nodding toward the open door.  "Hmmm…do you want to go home, have lunch in bed…or…"

"Lunch in bed?  Tempting, but I have to come back this afternoon.  There's always tonight…and dinner in bed."

He kissed the tip of her nose.  "If the kids can be quiet for five or ten minutes, we've got a date."

"Five or ten minutes?  My studly has a hair trigger?"

He laughed a little and lowered his head.  "You are so crude," he said as he focused his eyes on hers.

She gave him a lascivious wink.  "Get a new line, won't you?"  She grabbed his hand.  "Come on, let's go.  I only have an hour and I'm about to starve too death."

Donovan had wanted to go to a quiet little café or something, but Loralei insisted on going to the sprawling cafeteria at the university.  He had no desire to dine there, but today, he was in a particularly jovial mood and would have probably eaten chilidogs and cheese fries if she asked.  He gazed down at his food with a slight look of distaste.  He hadn't eaten in a college cafeteria in years.  Apparently, the food had never changed.  It didn't seem to bother Loralei, but then again, she had dived off into the salad bar and foregone the hot foods.  She had some kind of hang up about losing weight again.  She had done the same thing after Rachel's birth.  Uninterested in his own food, he sat back and watched Loralei curiously as she crunched up a carrot stick.

"How is it going," he asked.

She swallowed her mouthful of carrot and chased it with bottled water.  "It's hectic, but so far, I haven't had anyone throw stuff at me yet.  Of course, I have to get through one more class.  It's interesting.  Never considered myself teaching material, but I so enjoy having the rapt attention of all those untainted young minds."  Unceremoniously, she picked up another carrot stick and crunched it up just as fast.  "It's an adjustment.  I miss the hell out of Tristan and Rachel, though."  She sighed.  She was close to freaking tears for God's sake.  "Anyway, it's too funky having people calling me 'Doctor.'  Screw that, I'm plain ol' Loralei.  What about you?  How you doing?"

"Outside this horrid cafeteria fare, I'm great," he said with a smile.  "I've said it a dozen times, but I'm really proud of you.  I don't know if I could have done what you have, taken the chances that you did."

She smiled a little and crunched up yet another carrot stick.  "Baby, don't try to get all sexy on me while we're in public.  Wait until I get home, why don't you?"  She had never been one who took compliments very easily, even those from her husband.  "Stop, why don't you?  You're the risk taker, I mean after all, look at your lunch!"

*  *  *

He stood before the dean's desk and waited for him to respond to his questions and complaints.  He didn't seem to be paying attention to him and he hated it when people did that to him.  Dean Fehr was such an asshole.  He had never been anything but.  Right now, he sat and stared down at him as if he were better.  Of course the dean was only better in status.  He sat back and tapped his fingers impatiently against the arm of his chair.  Dean Fehr wasn't impressed with his complaints.  It was very obvious in his grim face and dark eyes.  _Come on, chicken heart.  Tell me why you fired me; tell me why you hired all these young green asses_.  Before meeting with the dean, he had walked down the hall that housed his former office [_former…oh how that hurt_] and he'd seen new names tacked on doors:  L. Donovan, M. Zimmerman, J. Reed, B. Combs, and Y. Simons.  This L. Donovan was occupying his old office now.  He had been tempted to stop by and yell at her about it, but she had had company.  Oddly enough, she had been cozying up to the dean.  Hmm.  An affair perhaps?  If that were true, it would explain a lot, now wouldn't it?

Dean Fehr leaned forward with his hands clasped together.  Not a good sign.  "I've told you a dozen times that we cannot reinstate you.  It has nothing to do with your age or your status or anything like that.  It has to do with the quality of your work for the past few months.  It has been on the decline.  You have to see that and accept it.  Then there are the student complaints.  I've had several students come to me and talk about some of the crazy things you did in class.  It's not normal to bring an active, loaded working handgun into your lecture.  It makes us nervous.  You have had several stressful events that have culminated in this breakdown.  You can take a sabbatical.  Don't consider it a dismissal, but an opportunity to get your head straight.  The last paper you wrote was rambling and nonsensical.  You know our philosophy of publish or perish and you cannot resume until you find peace within yourself.  Please don't bother asking for another chance, not right now."

_So much for understanding_.

*  *  *

Loralei slung her bag over her shoulder.  She had forgotten that she had brought home a ton of shit until she lifted the bag.  What had she been thinking?  She stuck her key in the lock with a grunt.  When she entered the living room, the first thing she noticed was complete silence.  How rare.  Either one or the other of the kids was crying his or her head off.  She loved her children, but their lungs were so way over developed.  She dropped the bag by the front door and caught herself glancing up at the beautiful portrait Kara had painted of the family.  She wished a thousand times she could do stuff like that.  The faces staring back at her were almost _real_.  Incredible.  As she climbed upstairs, a stray thought of Kara and Farron entered her mind.  She had seen Kara in passing a few days ago, and her new sister in-law was acting quite…strange, stunned.  She would definitely have to get nosy and find out what the hell was going on.  She plodded along and glanced into the children's rooms.  Of course, they were gone.  _Ah.  Explains the quiet_.  She wondered vaguely where Donovan had taken the children.  She went into the bedroom, stripped down, and slipped into her favorite ratty robe.  Loralei took advantage of the silence and passed out on the bed.  Her first day was okay, but damned exhausting.

She had been coming in and out of a fogged kind of sleep and thought she'd heard Donovan come home.  Any second now, she expected to hear the chirping scream of her twenty month old daughter, the blatting cries of her two month old son, and the exhausted groan of one overwrought daddy.  Instead, she was greeted with more silence.  _I must have been dreaming_.  She sighed a little and hugged her pillow closer to her.  After a few minutes, she felt a warm body slide into bed behind her.  Another moment later, her husband's scent and the solid wall of his body enveloped her.  _What a nice surprise after such a hectic day_, she thought.  She sighed a little as she felt his warm lips drifting along the side of her throat.  She smiled and decided to continue her game of possum.  

"I'd think that since we're alone for a little while, you'd wake up and at least kiss me," he said with a smile, his voice falling in her ear.

She giggled, the sound muffled in her pillow.  "I would if I weren't so tired."

His hand found the tie to her robe and he pulled it free of its loose knot.  "Too tired to let me make love to you?"

"Yup."

He kept his smile and placed a gentle kiss on her ear.  "We'll see about that."  Once the robe was loosened, he pulled it away from her shoulder.  To his utter delight, she was naked underneath.  His lips found her naked shoulder as his hand reached under her arm so he could delicately cup her breast in his hand.  As his lips worked on her shoulder, his fingers gently kneaded her breast, her nipple perking right up to attention.  Apparently, _it_ wasn't tired.  "And now?"

A quiet little moan escaped her.  "It's slacking off a bit, I think."  His naughty, naughty little fingers continued to knead and tease.  "But _only_ a bit."

"You need more convincing, do you?"

His voice was low and rustling, drifting into her ear so very fluidly, sexily.  Much to her chagrin, his fingers moved from her breast to draw the robe away even further off her body, revealing an obstructed view of her back and the luscious curve of her hip.  His hand moved from her side and then settled on her hip.  He made small, swooping caresses over her pelvic bone and back again.  _Over and back.  Uh, the bastard_._  Loralei, you're so easy.  _

She took hold of his hand.  "Stop stop stop stop stop _stop_," she whispered machine gun fashion.

"You don't wish that I continue," he asked with a grin.

"Yes…no…what the hell did you ask again?  Don't play with my mind, Frank.  Jesus!"

"Okay," he said as he drew back just the slightest bit.  "I'll stop playing with your mind, because there are many more things I'd rather play with instead."

She turned to her back and looked up at him.  "So what is the hold up, Studly?  Get busy."

He leaned down and kissed her.  "My pleasure," he said against her lips.

"Uh uh, baby, it's mine."  She leaned up and snaked her arms around him.  Tugging on his body gently, she whispered, "Mmm.  Come here."  

He settled his body over hers, placing his knee between her thighs.  His mouth staked claim to hers as her hands went into his hair.  As soon as the kiss was broken, her tongue traced delicate little lines over his lips, lingering on the bottom one [of course].  After sufficiently corkscrewing his hair, her hands tripped lightly down his sides and she grasped his sweater in her fists, pulling it up.  This was his favorite sweater and later, he'd probably kill her for stretching it out of shape, but right at the moment, she didn't give a ripe fuck.  He pulled away only the briefest of moments to strip out of the sweater before he went down to her again, startling her just a little with a sudden deep and hungry kiss.  

"Patience wearing a little thin," she asked comically once he allowed her to breathe again.

"Patience?  What the hell is that?"

She giggled and then kissed him again.  During their kiss, he pulled her over on top of him.  She sat up, straddling his waist, and she stripped away her ratty robe.  He wanted to sit up and meet her, but she planted her hand firmly into his chest and shook her head.  

"Settle back," she said.

Suspiciously, he gazed at her with lifted brow.  "What do you have in mind, Loralei?"

At first, she ignored his question and began working on his slacks.  When she had them opened, she met his gaze and smiled.  "Something…naughty." 

"Naughty.  Sounds terrifically kinky, but really, my love, I can't."

She nodded.  "Yes you can.  I'll show you." 

Incredulously, he watched as she worked him out of the remainder of his clothes.  _What the hell_, he thought as her tongue began at the tip of his big toe and moved upward at a snail's pace, just barely making contact with his flesh.  As she progressed up the length of one leg, her tongue pressed against his skin in an unmistakable flicking motion.  _Is she licking me_?  She repeated the same motion on the other leg and slid her body upward as she progressed.  She skipped over his aching groin and he wasn't sure if he were disappointed or relieved.  Instead, her tongue made its wet licking way to his lower abdomen, up to his ribcage, and over to his nipples.  He drew in a hissed breath as she bit each of them.  He made a gesture toward her, but she grasped his wrist and slapped his arm back down to the bed.

"Loralei," he said, "what…"

"Don't speak, don't move, don't breathe," she said with a smile.  "There are a few things here and there that I'd like to play with.  Is that okay?"

He grinned wickedly.  "Oh yeah."                      


	2. Taking Out The Dean

TAKING OUT THE DEAN

It was fairly late when Dean Fehr unlocked the front door of his condo.  He had been swamped at the office.  A thousand times, he had asked himself why he took the position he now occupied.  Life had been so much simpler when he was still teaching.  Running an entire department wasn't easy.  Nick Fehr had been at the university a little under ten years.  He had been hired in the Criminal Justice Department fresh from college.  He had taught on a tenure track for about seven years when the dean had had a heart attack right at his desk.  Without being asked, Fehr simply stepped up to the helm of the position and basically took over.  The university president had been so impressed with him and his take-charge attitude, that they hadn't bothered searching for a replacement.  Instead, they offered him the position and he took it.  Days like today made him wish he'd told the president where to stick the job.  Not only had he had to deal with five new instructors, but he had also had the displeasure of dealing with that…_idiot_ again.  When Fehr fired him, he didn't think he'd ever have to face the man again.  How wrong he was.  It seemed as if he came to the office every other day and begged to be reinstated.  The fellow was more than aware that his replacement had been hired.  It should have been the end of it, but it wasn't.  Some people just couldn't take a blatant hint, now could they?  Sighing, he pushed open the door and entered his living room.

Fehr didn't bother turning on a light.  This day had worn him out to an extent where he had no energy to even reach out and flick a switch.  He kicked off his expensive leather shoes and moved toward the kitchen.  He thought he had a bottle of wine in the fridge somewhere and he intended to hit it heavily.  As he stood pouring his wine, he reasoned that most of the new instructors weren't half bad, but one of them kind of annoyed him.  What was her name again?  Wasn't it Donovan?  Damn, but could that woman talk.  He supposed it was a good characteristic to possess as a professor, but when that woman got going…damn.  She had potential though, definite potential, as did the rest of the group.  If he hadn't had to face that…_idiot_, his day would have gone much more smoothly.  Ah, but that thought had entered his mind once already, hadn't it?  He carried his glass of wine over to the living room sofa and he sank into the overstuffed cushions.  Thankfully enough, his remote control rested beside him.  He wasn't altogether sure if he had enough energy to lean forward for it.  He grabbed it and flicked the power button.  He was then enveloped by soft strains of classical music.  It was the only thing that had the power to relax him after a particularly grueling day.  He took two or three sips of wine from the glass before setting it aside.  He was becoming drowsier by the second.  _A short nap won't hurt.  Just a short nap and then I'll call Mel_, he thought as he drifted further and further into the fog, dreaming of his girlfriend.  As it turned out, he would remember nothing after he closed his eyes for the last time.

*  *  *

Carol Dover had started the semester as a sophomore.  She had been working very hard despite a few personal setbacks.  Although unaware, Dean Nick Fehr lived in the same building as she.  Of course, she was in a different department at school, but everyone had seen Fehr at least once.  However, she was unaware just the same.  She plodded toward the front lobby of the building.  Sighing heavily as much as Dean Fehr before her, she entered the building and began digging out her keys.  Her condo was on the second floor and she would be more than happy to get to it.  She had a long night of studying ahead of her.  She secured her book bag over her shoulder and began climbing upstairs.  As she progressed up the first flight, a man passed her going down.  He looked familiar, but she couldn't quite place him.  She wouldn't have noticed him at all if he hadn't bumped right into her without saying anything.  _Excuse you_, she thought disgustedly.  She made it about halfway up the second flight when she noticed a wet feeling against the side of her arm.  _What is this_?  She stopped right where she was and glanced at her arm.  It was blood.  At first, she thought it was _her_ blood, but she had no injuries.  Then she remembered the man who passed her.  She dropped her book bag and ran back downstairs.  If she hurried, she might make it to him.

Carol flew down the stairs and ran toward the lobby door leading out to the street.  She stood with the door propped open and her eyes scanned the crowd.  She didn't see the man anywhere.  He wouldn't be hard to spot, but she saw nothing, nobody.  Sighing again, she closed the door and made her way back upstairs.  She had to get the blood off her arm; it was grossing her out and making her a little sick to her stomach.  She had no idea what happened to the guy, but it disturbed her all the same.  If she had ventured further up the stairs, she would have seen a stray drop of blood here and there.  However, her exhaustion ruled her, making her turn a blind eye to it.  She struggled with the heavy ass book bag, unlocked her door, and went inside.  

*  *  *

He made his way down the sidewalk.  His car was parked perhaps a few blocks down from the building.  He wasn't sure what had just happened.  Had he been aware?  He didn't think he had been.  He remembered finding his way up to Dean Fehr's apartment, somehow getting inside [he couldn't remember how he got inside, either], and then he lay in wait.  He had grabbed an object of some kind, hadn't he?  His mind played back just a bit.  He recalled curling his fingers around something solid.  What was it?  A small log?  A piece of kindling?  He was having trouble putting it together.  He only remembered grabbing the thin log, but hefty log from the box sitting beside the fireplace.  He hid out in the back bedroom and patiently waited for Fehr to come home.  Had he intended all along to kill him?  He didn't think so.  He only wanted the asshole to admit he had made a mistake.  He just wanted his job back.  When he saw that Fehr was relaxing, he made his move.  He didn't intend on killing the man.  He really, really didn't.  _Didn't you_?  He had slipped out of his hiding place and held the heavy stick over Fehr's head menacingly.  A part of him wanted Fehr to awaken and demand that he leave.  It wasn't to be, of course.  Without a thought as to what consequences awaited him, he lifted the kindling log and began swinging it crazily.  He couldn't be sure Fehr was even aware of what was happening to him.  Did it matter?  

He blinked his eyes rapidly to chase away the images of flying blood.  It was completely disgusting and horrifying.  Obviously, he had premeditated the act, because he had been coherent enough to wear gloves.  Jesus.  He _had_ planned it.  He sat behind the wheel of his car and thought about his deed.  How many people had seen him?  He remembered passing only one person.  He knew her.  She had been a student of his last year.  Perhaps she would attach no significance to it.  He felt a little relieved until he lifted his arm.  It was soaked in Fehr's blood.  Jesus Christ.  Why hadn't he noticed this before?  He had bumped right into the female student, hadn't he?  What if she noticed the blood?  What if she called the police?  He didn't want to go to jail for committing a crime that he perceived as a justifiable homicide.

*  *  *

Carol took a long, hot shower before she cracked open the books.  She hated studying for exams.  She longed to take a class that would allow her to just write papers and nothing else.  She could find nine dozen things she'd rather do than studying for a test.  She wrapped her wet body into a thick terry cloth robe and entered her living room.  She groaned as her eyes settled on the large pile of books.  She approached her couch and curled up on it.  She grabbed a book and cracked it open.  She had barely gotten comfortable when she heard a soft knock on her door.  Shit.  What now?  At the rate she was going, she would never get any studying done.  She dropped her book and stood up.  Carol walked over to the door and peeked into the peephole.  What the hell was _he_ doing here?  She wasn't as scared as she was concerned.  After all, she had gotten his blood all over her.  Her fatal mistake was opening the door.  She never knew what hit her.

*  *  *

Although utterly and completely exhausted, Loralei couldn't sleep.  She was so restless that she had turned off the baby monitor in the bedroom.  She could listen for Tristan's cries in her little office.  She sat and stared at a blank computer screen.  She had opened a blank Word document, but found she couldn't write.  She was distracted.  She felt a bit unsettled, but didn't know why.  After making exhaustive love with her husband, he had left her to retrieve the kids from Angie's.  She had spent as much time with the children as she could.  It had been a long day without them, but both of them were just as tired as she.  Every few minutes, she backed away from the mocking blank document and checked on each child.  If she kept it up, they'd both be awake for the rest of the night.  Resisting the temptation to sneak into their rooms, she closed the document and opened up a solitaire game.  She couldn't sleep, couldn't write, and couldn't check in on the kids.  _I'm in hell_.  She smiled a little at the thought.  _Naw.  I've been in hell and this is nothing like it_.  Tomorrow would be a slow day for her.  She only had one class and the rest of the day was hers to catch up on her writing and research.  Mord was a publish or perish university and if she didn't start writing, she wouldn't have a job to go to.  She scoured her mind for topics.  There was plenty to write about, her past gave her a multitude of ideas and experience, but she just wasn't in the mood.  She blew a harsh breath through her lips and backed away from the computer.  She wasn't in the mood to play solitaire either.

Loralei walked over to the window and propped one knee up on the window seat.  The back of the house faced the wooded area that separated their home from the Everett's.  If she weren't such a wuss, she'd go outside and take a walk.  It was funny, really.  She had lived in the sprawling urban jungle for most of her adult life, and had never been afraid to go out.  However, since moving out here, she had suddenly become a chicken and wouldn't go out alone at night.  Dumb.  Stupid.  Crazy.  Oh well.  She continued to stare out into the darkness and noticed that a thousand stars were out twinkling and shining.  Absently, she began to gently rap her knuckle against the window.  She didn't like feeling this way; it unsettled her, and kept her up at night.  When she turned around to go back to her computer, she noticed Donovan standing in the doorway.  She was certain he intended to approach her and scare the shit out of her.  Yet, she had turned before he had the chance.  Her husband could be a juvenile prick every once in a while, but she loved the hell out of him.  He was gazing at her steadily.  She vaguely wondered how long he'd been standing there.  Normally, if he were near her for any long length of time, she could 'feel' him.  Then again, tonight, she was distracted.  

The ghostly glow illuminating from the computer screen was the only light in the room.  It played off her like artificial moonlight and he again found himself thinking that she was utterly beautiful.  "It's nearly four," he said.  "Have you not slept tonight?"

She shook her head.  "No, I haven't.  I had a little nap earlier before _someone_ woke me up," she accused lightly.  "I'm just a bit of an insomniac tonight…er…this morning.  It's not a big deal."  

She noticed he had yet to move toward her, and that was unusual.  For a moment, she stood and held his steady gaze.  Suddenly, a horrible feeling of dread entered her and shook her up a little.  It bloomed in the pit of her stomach like a twisted morning glory vine.  She felt as if something would go wrong, as if something that she loved would leave her.  She didn't like this feeling, didn't like the images it stirred up inside her.  She approached him and wrapped her arms around him.  She rested her cheek against his chest and listened to the comforting beat of his heart.  A little mystified at her reaction, his arms came up around her.

"Are you okay," he whispered down at her.

"I don't…no…I'm not, Frank," she said, "I don't know why I feel like this.  I don't know what's wrong," she said softly.  "I just…just don't know."

He drew away from her for a slight moment.  There were tears shining in her eyes.  _What is this_?  "Hey," he said gently as his thumb wiped away a tear that had managed to fall out of her eye.  "Whatever it is, it isn't worth all this."  He drew her into his embrace again and she tightened her hold on his body.  Her unshed tears began to fall freely.  "It's okay," he soothed, "Baby, it's okay." 

She tried to listen to him, tried to believe that it was, indeed, okay.  Yet, she didn't feel it in her heart.  After a very long time, she drew away reluctantly.  He was gazing down at her, concern clearly identifiable in his eyes.  "I haven't cried this much since before the baby was born.  Maybe it's that postpartum depression shit," she said with a sniffed.  She swiped the tears out of her eyes.  "I'm sorry, I got you all wet."

Loralei turned away from him and walked toward her computer.  It was obvious to Donovan that she felt a little embarrassed about crying for no reason, but he didn't understand.  She wasn't the type of woman who cried unless it was damn well warranted [or hormone derived].  After a brief moment, he approached her slowly and took her hand.  She turned toward him and felt fresh tears forming in her eyes.  Perhaps she was so tired that she couldn't sleep.  He understood that.  It had happened to him more than once.  He tugged on her hand, pulling her toward him gently.  She moved over to him willingly enough.  He kissed her forehead and gazed down at her again.

"Come on," he said.  "Let me take you to bed.  You have to get some sleep," he said, telling her something she already knew and understood.  

Without protesting, she allowed him to lead her out of the room and back into their bedroom.  She climbed under the covers, completely certain that she wouldn't find sleep regardless of what she did.  He climbed in behind her and wrapped his arms around her.  After a moment, she felt him nuzzling her shoulder very gently, delicately.  She was still unnerved and restless, but his arms about her body comforted her a little, helped her relax.  He placed a soft kiss on her ear and settled in against her as her hand settled on his.  By the time the sun rose, she was certain his poor arms would be numb and useless to him, but she didn't want him to release her, and he didn't seem to be in any big hurry to let _her_ go.  For that, she was grateful.  It was the little things she loved so much about him.  The little things she would miss if anything were to ever happen to him.  _Shit.  Where did that thought come from_?  She drove it out of her mind as she tightened her hold on his hands.  After a few minutes, she heard Donovan's breathing even out as he fell asleep.  As she suspected, she didn't go back to sleep.  She lay with her husband's arms wrapped tightly around her, as if she were afraid to move, afraid to let him go.  

When the alarm went off an hour and a half later, Donovan reluctantly opened his eyes.  He had fallen asleep with his wife in his arms, but he had awakened in an empty bed.  Her side of the bed was cold and barely touched.  She apparently had not tried to sleep.  He sat up and ran his hand through his sleep-tousled hair.  He threw his legs over the side of the bed and slowly stood up.  He shook his head incredulously when he realized that the door to Tristan's room was closed.  He remembered when she had done this before with Rachel.  He approached the door and creaked it open.  As expected, Loralei was seated in the old recliner/rocker they had brought with them from the old place.  Tristan was sleeping soundly in his crib, but Loralei had Rachel snuggled up against her.  She had probably gone to Rachel first, perhaps awakening her, and then brought her into Tristan's room.  From the looks of it, she had just gotten Rachel back to sleep.  It wouldn't be long before the baby would awaken.  Loralei glanced up at her husband apologetically before placing her finger up against her lips.  Rachel loved both her parents enormously, but she was her daddy's girl, and if she saw him, she'd never go back to sleep.  He didn't move away from the doorway as Loralei carried Rachel back into her room.  After she exited Rachel's room, Loralei started toward their bedroom, but he took hold of her arm before she could walk past him.

"Can you function today?  You didn't sleep all night," he said.

She nodded and smiled a little.  He wouldn't believe whatever she said.  He could see the dark circles under her eyes, could tell that she was completely exhausted.  However, she had to put on a big front.  "I can," she said.  "I'm lucky today.  I have just one class.  I might lock myself in my office later and catch a couple of winks during lunch.  I couldn't sleep and had the urge to be with the kids.  Rachel awoke when she heard me moving around."

Donovan kept hold of her arm and moved her away from Tristan's room.  "Do you want to talk about this," he asked.

She sighed.  "I'd love to, but I don't know _what_ we would be talking about.  I'm just out of sorts, Frank, and I don't know why.  I'll be okay.  I think it's the changes going on.  There have been a lot of them lately, and it'll work out in the end."

He nodded.  "Okay.  I'm here for you when you need me.  I'll always be here for you," he said.

_Will he?  Will he **really**?  _What the hell?  "I know, baby," she said.  "I love you."  

She placed a gentle kiss on his lips before drawing away.  If she didn't get away from him, she thought she might start bawling again.  She didn't want to leave him, didn't want to go to work, but she had no choice.  If she could get through today and tomorrow, she would have an entire weekend to get her head straight before the cycle renewed itself.          


	3. Bad News

BAD NEWS  

Loralei stood back with a steaming mug of highly caffeinated coffee.  She couldn't concentrate on drinking it because she couldn't stop giggling.  Either what she was witnessing was completely hilarious or she was totally hysterical.  Donovan had placed half a banana before Rachel with the intention of mashing it up for her, but she had her own ideas.  _No dear Father_, she seemed to say with her big green eyes, _I shall mash my own banana, thank you very much_.  She had taken the banana in her hand and smashed it up nicely.  Now, she had banana on her hands, between her fingers, and was readying to shampoo her hair with it.

"You know," Donovan said from across the room, "Instead of standing over there giggling like an idiot, you could help me a little," he said in mock annoyance as he struggled to keep Rachel's hands from going into her hair.  She simply couldn't understand why washing her hair with mashed banana was a bad idea.  

Loralei shook her head and continued to giggle.  She tried to take a sip of coffee, but couldn't manage to get the cup up to her mouth.  "Baby, you're doing a swell job.  I can't believe you're letting a teeny little girl beat you up."  Rachel squealed out through her over developed lungs and broke into her own flurry of giggles as she smacked Daddy's nose.  Splat.  Now Donovan was covered in mashed banana.  Loralei couldn't help it.  She had to set her coffee mug down, if she didn't, she would slop the scalding liquid all over her.  "Oh dear Lord," she said between guffaws, "I suppose you'll think twice before giving her another banana, won't you?"

"Go to work, won't you," he said, trying but failing, to sound exasperated.  He lifted Rachel out of her highchair.  "We have a mess to clean up, don't we, Rachel?"  She squealed again and finally managed to get her banana-covered hand into her hair.  "Give us a kiss, won't you," Donovan said with a lifted eyebrow and a mischievous glint in his dark eyes.

*  *  *

When Loralei parked her car in the faculty lot, she noticed that the campus was abuzz with activity.  Mord was fairly small and the ton of people milling about surprised her.  She recognized a few of them as local media.  She vaguely wondered what the hell was going on, but again, she was distracted enough not to worry with it too much.  She ignored the mass of people and made her way toward the building that housed her office and department.  She went up to her office and again noticed more people than usual in the hallway, some whispering quietly, others glancing about nervously.  She again ignored the activity and set about her new daily routine.  She went to her desk and sat down.  Loralei intended to dig out her schedule for the day and go over it with a fine tooth comb.  She had a meeting with Dean Fehr at ten, and she somehow felt he didn't like her much.  She wasn't one to put on airs for those who didn't like her [_fuck 'em_], but she also knew she had to meet with the dean whether she wanted to or not.  Sighing, she dug out a small notebook and began jotting a few notes here and there whenever the bastard decided to pounce on her about her research project.

She had barely gotten two lines written when one of her new colleagues stuck his head into her office.  At first, he said little to her.  She seemed completely and entirely oblivious to the world surrounding her.  What was she?  An ostrich with her head in the sand?  "Donovan?  Haven't you heard?"

Loralei looked up from her notebook.  "Heard what?"

He shook his head.  Yup.  She was an ostrich.  "Dean Fehr was murdered last night at his condo, along with a student a couple of floors down.  Jesus, Donovan, don't you watch the news?"

She said nothing in return to her colleague and watched him vaguely as he made his leave.  Suddenly, nothing mattered to her.  The dean?  Murdered?  A student?  Why had the news given her a bad taste in her mouth?  Of course, no one liked to hear of a murder or a death, but this news bothered her more than anything she had heard about.  What was it?  She thought of last night again, her foreboding sense of doom.  However, that feeling had more to do with her husband than the dean.  She was tempted to phone her husband.  The need to hear his voice was overwhelming.  She checked her wristwatch.  _Damn it_.  He would be on the road with the kids by now and wouldn't have his cell phone on.  Sighing, Loralei pushed away from her desk and crossed her arms over her chest.  She immediately wanted to connect the two murders, immediately began piecing together a scenario.  _Oh stop it, won't you?  You're no longer in that mindset, Donovan.  Shut it down.  Shut it down and leave it for the authorities._  She glanced down at her watch again.  Damn it.  She needed to talk to him, but at the same time, she didn't want to worry him.  Her behavior the night before had done enough.  

*  *  *

It had taken Donovan about an hour to clean himself, the kitchen, and Rachel.  He had had to practically give her a bath and take a shower.  By the time they were both dressed, he was running extremely late.  For once, Tristan cooperated by remaining completely silent up until he got the rotten kid into the car.  All was not lost, though.  When he pulled out onto the road, the baby quieted down and Rachel's lungs finally tired.  Both kids had been completely passed out by the time they made it to Angie's apartment.  Tomorrow morning, it would be Loralei's turn to corral the children.  When he entered the nest, he was already tired, as if he had put in a fifteen-hour day.  He thanked his lucky stars that nothing interesting had made its way into the inbox.  Strangely enough, the entire team was a little quiet this morning, even Cody.  Donovan found himself wondering if he had awakened in some parallel universe.  Without garnering the attention of his agents, he started toward his office.  Halfway up the staircase, he stopped and glanced curiously at his crew.  All of them were standing around Cody, their eyes fixed on one of his computer monitors.  Donovan came back down and moved toward his agents.  What the hell had gotten their attention?

Donovan came around behind them.  Why did the image on the screen seem familiar to him?  After half a dozen seconds, he realized he was looking at the campus of Mord University.  He wanted to speak, but he was a little too shocked to say anything.  _Mord University is where both Dean Nicolas Fehr and student Carol Dover spent most of their time.  After last night, neither of them will dwell on campus again_.  The commentary was hideous, but it was obvious that something had happened either on campus or off.  His agents were silent because they knew Loralei was teaching there now, and this would lead to new worry for him, and they were right.  It did.  Without a word [he had never been so silent around the team, not since first taking over the SOG], he went back toward his office.  Once inside, he closed the door behind him.  As much as Loralei before him, he glanced at his wristwatch.  She should be in her office.  He grabbed the phone and dialed up Loralei's direct extension.  He received no answer.  It rang and rang.  He replaced the phone and sat back in his chair.  He recalled how Loralei was so very upset last night.  Had she inherently known something like this would happen?  He shook his head.  The thought was too _Twilight Zone_ to consider.  However, the thought of two people from the university getting killed so very close to her unsettled him.  He didn't like it and wouldn't rest until he spoke to her about it.  He wasn't afraid for her life, she knew how to take care of herself, but he was worried just the same.

Time passed, he wasn't sure how much.  His eyes were focused on the window at the far end of the room and he found himself daydreaming.  None of the team had disturbed him; they figured he was trying to make contact with his wife.  He was, but every time he tried her office, she didn't answer the phone.  He called home, but she didn't answer there, either.  She carried a cell phone, but she rarely turned it on unless she was going out of town.  _Damn it, Loralei, where are you?_  He heard a soft rap at his door and expected it to be Alex or Monica.  He didn't bother calling out.  Instead, he continued to stare out the window, silently wondering where his wife was.  The door came open and then closed softly behind his visitor.

"Frank," a voice called softly.

He turned.  "Loralei?  Where have you been?"

She approached his desk and leaned against it, facing him.  "Driving around," she admitted.  "I stopped by Angie's and checked on the kids.  I suppose you heard about the dean and that student?"  He said nothing, only nodded.  "The President shut down the university for the rest of the week.  It was…was really bad, from what I understand.  I heard they were…were bludgeoned too death."  She was close to tears.  Damn it.  She hated being a crybaby.  He tried to move toward her to comfort her, but she held up her hand.  "I'm okay.  It was just a very long, weird morning.  I'm glad it's over."

Donovan stood up to face her and he took her hands in his.  "Baby?  Are you okay?"  It was her turn to nod without speaking.  He drew her against him and held her tightly.  He placed a gentle kiss on her ear.  "Why don't we pick up the kids and go home," he whispered, his voice falling in her ear.  "There's nothing going on here and I don't want to leave you home alone."  He moved away.  "Do you want to?"

She nodded.  "Yes," she whispered, "very much."

*  *  *

Loralei and Donovan lay on their bed facing each other.  Their two little ones lay between them sleeping deeply.  They hadn't said much to each other since they came home, but that was okay.  They often communicated without the need to speak.  "One more child, Loralei," Donovan began, "and we'll have to get a bigger bed."

"One more child, Donovan, and you get neutered," she said with a smile.  She leaned over and kissed him gently.  "I'm glad we did this," she whispered.  "Although our lives are far from perfect, the only time I feel sane is when I'm with you and the children.  I thought my job would increase the sanity, but I guess I was wrong."  She stopped speaking.  She wanted to express her fears, her sense of dread, but she didn't know if she should say anything.  A mental poke goaded her, pushed her.  _What about that promise you made to each other back before you married?  What about that?  _"Frank, have you ever felt as if your world is about to turn upside down without a reason?  Without a cause?  Last night, I felt like that.  I didn't realize that's what it was until I had time to think about it.  Something just seems out of whack, and I don't understand what it could be.  Have you felt it before?  Have you?  Have you or am I losing my mind?"

Donovan could see that she was close to tears yet again.  He nodded a little.  "Yes, I've felt that way before, lots of times.  What is it, Loralei?  What are you afraid of?  Tell me, talk to me, and we can work through it."

"You're going to think I'm crazy," she said as her eyes filled with tears.  _Jesus.  Here goes the water works again_.  

He reached across their sleeping children to wipe away the tears that had begun to fall on her cheeks.  "No, baby, I would never think that."

Loralei swallowed a lump in her throat.  "I'm scared, Frank.  It…it hit me last night.  I think it's why I couldn't sleep.  I'm afraid I'm going to lose you, lose what we have.  I feel as if something is going to happen that will tear us apart, and I don't like it, I don't like feeling this way.  I can't explain it and I don't know where it's coming from.  I know how crazy it sounds, but I remember the promise we made to each other before we married, and I wanted to…to tell you."

"Loralei, nothing is going to happen to us.  We've gone through hell since we met and it has made our relationship even stronger.  I can't see much of anything that would tear us apart for very long."  His hand caressed the side of her cheek and wiped away yet more tears.  "I'm not trying to dismiss your fears, but I want you to know that our bond is strong, and we love each other very much.  Whatever happens, if anything, we can hold it together just as we've done from the beginning."

She nodded as if answering 'I know,' but in her heart, she didn't mean it.  Not really.  She knew he was right when he said that they could just about get through anything, but she had doubts.  In the last few months, her life had changed dramatically, she felt shaky and out of sorts.  It didn't necessarily have to do with Nick Fehr's murder.  Again, she contributed her feelings to the changes that had occurred.  She couldn't continue to do this to herself.  She had little time for a breakdown.  "Frank, just be careful out there, okay?"

"Of course," he said.  "I have three very important reasons to be careful."  There wasn't much he could do or say to allay her fears, and he disliked feeling so helpless.  What else could he do?  What else could he say?  He had known and loved her long enough to realize that if she had a rock stuck in her craw, nothing he said would help.  "Love you, LD."

She smiled a little.  "Me too, FD."

*  *  *

The next afternoon, Loralei left the kids with Angie for a couple of hours so she could visit the public library.  The campus was still closed down, but she needed to occupy her mind with a little research.  There was no way she wanted to hang around the house, brooding over her nonsensical dread and doom.  She carried a pile of books over to a nearby table.  A man seated at a table across from her was eyeing her curiously.  From her vantage point, she saw that his hair was short and had once been black, but was now more salt and pepper.  He possessed a strong lantern jaw and a sharp Roman nose.  She couldn't see him well enough to detect his eye color, but she wouldn't be afraid to bet they were ice blue.  He appeared to be no older than fifty, but carried himself as if he were years younger.  The man was pretending to read a thick volume sitting before him, but he would look in her general direction at regular intervals.  Loralei was tempted to approach the man and ask if he knew her, but she hesitated.  How would he know her?  She had never seen him in her life.  Yet, he seemed to be aware of her identity.  She could read it easily in his demeanor.  A bit unnerved and annoyed, she sat down and cracked open one of her books.  When she gazed down at her notebook, she once again felt his eyes on her.  _What the hell?  This is pissing me off_.  She vaguely wondered if this fellow was someone from the FBI checking her out.  _Why would the FBI care about me anymore?  I haven't been part of the fold in nearly two years_.  Shaken, but not stirred [_Like James Bond…damn it, Loralei, you're losing your mind_], she looked away and back down at her book.  Damn it.  Whoever the guy was, he was disturbing her, breaking her concentration.  She looked up blatantly and obviously.  Once again, he was looking right at her.  _Who the hell are you and why are you fucking staring at me_?  She sighed and shook her head.  _Forget him.  Look away.  Focus on your own shit._  

Clearing her throat, Loralei went back to her book and began reading again.  She read the same damn paragraph twice.  She could feel the man's eyes on her, boring into her.  What the hell?  She fought desperately to keep from looking up.  However, whenever she _didn't_ want to do something, she wound up doing it anyway.  As if on cue, she looked toward the man's table.  Again, he was gazing toward her.  _If I look up one more time and see his eyes on me, I __will__ ask him what the fuck is his problem.  Oh yes I will_.  She went back to her book, reading the same paragraph yet again.  He was fucking up everything for her.  She glanced down at her notebook and noticed that she had written the same sentence twice.  _Shit_.  When she looked up again, his eyes were on her.  _Okay, that fucking does it_.  She snapped her book closed and started to push away from the table.  However, the man moved before she could.  She watched curiously as he approached her.  She wasn't altogether sure she wanted him sitting with her, but that was exactly what he seemed to be doing.  She immediately began to tense.  There was something about this guy that had completely spooked her, but she couldn't put her finger on it.  

As the man pulled out a chair and sat down, she crossed her arms before her and gazed at him with a lifted eyebrow [_Goddamn you, Donovan, you are so rubbing off on me_].  "I'm sorry, but I don't know you," she said.  "Can I help you?"  She had raised her voice louder than intended, but she was a bit on the pissed side.  

The man smiled apologetically.  "Pardon me, I'm sorry for disturbing you," he said.  His voice was deep and raspy.  "I've seen you on campus.  I'm Andy Dannon.  Used to teach at Mord, but since I retired, I mostly guest lecture.  I'm affiliated with your department.  I noticed your pile of books and thought I could offer some assistance, if you wish.  I'm well aware of Mord's motto of publish or perish."

She had been right about his eyes.  They were ice blue and cold.  His friendliness seemed forced and as fake as a four-dollar bill.  She didn't remember anything about an "Andy Dannon."  The dean had never mentioned this man.  "I appreciate it, Mr. Dannon, but I don't need your help.  I can manage on my own.  If you don't mind, I'd like to get back to my work, and your presence is disrupting it."

Her harsh words didn't seem to rattle him.  He smiled a little and nodded.  "I completely understand your need to dive in solo.  I was just like you when I first started teaching.  If you change your mind, you can find me here on most nights.  Good evening, Ms. Donovan."  Without giving her a chance to respond, he pushed away from the table, stood up, and walked away.

She looked after the man for a moment.  How the fuck did he know her name?  _Think, you dumb ass.  He probably saw it as he walked by your office_.  If he worked at the university, why hadn't she seen him?  Sighing, she shook off the bizarre conversation and went back to her book.  For the hundredth time, she read the same passage.  _Fuck it_.  She couldn't concentrate now.  "Andy Dannon" had royally fucked it up for her.  She slammed the book closed and gathered it and the dozen others she had found earlier.  Time to check out and retrieve her children.  

*  *  *

Donovan was in his office having a difficult conference call with Shoemaker and Fielder.  He had never taken a liking to Shoemaker and could only tolerate Fielder.  Donovan had told the two men the same thing a half dozen times, but it seemed as if nothing was getting through to them.  From downstairs, he heard a slight ruckus going on.  It didn't necessarily sound as if there was a fight going on, but he could hear Cody laughing, and a moment later, he heard an all too familiar squeal of delight.  Distracted now, he smiled a little.  Loralei had apparently brought the kids over for a visit.  

"So, Frank," Shoemaker began, "what do you make of this?"

_Make of what_?  He had blocked out the droning sound of Shoemaker's voice.  It was more than obvious that his boss wasn't paying attention to him, so why should he return the favor?  It was bad form, but right now, he really didn't care.  "Could we continue this later?  I have another meeting in fifteen."

"Ah," Shoemaker said, "Say hello to your wife, would you?"

"Sure thing," he said and then disconnected the call.  He was about to make his way downstairs until he heard a soft rap on the door.  He opened the door and smiled down at his wife.  "Knocking again?"

Loralei shrugged and entered the room.  "Well, they told me you were playing tug-o-war with Shoemaker and Fielder.  I wanted to make sure the game was over before I interrupted it."

He closed the door behind her and turned around.  She had taken her customary place on his desk.  He had actually begun to ensure that the spot was vacant just for her.  "You were interrupting nothing.  I don't enjoy the business part of this job.  I could sincerely do without that."  He approached her and stood beside her, his hand coming out to rest comfortably on her thigh.  "What's on your mind?"

"I had a strange encounter with a guy at the library.  He said he was working at the university, but I think he was lying.  Gave me the creeps like you wouldn't believe," she said.

"Do you want Cody to check him out," he asked.

She smiled a little.  "Am I that transparent?"

"Maybe," he said with his own little smile.  "Perhaps you've been married to me too long."  His smile fell away for a moment.  "Do you think he may have had something to do with the murders?"

She shrugged again.  "Don't know.  Maybe.  Maybe not.  I just want him checked out.  I think it'll make me feel better.  It was strange.  He sat and stared at me forever before he finally came over to offer assistance with my project.  Why would a rank stranger do that?  He said his name was Andy Dannon, but I've never heard of this man before today.  If he was part of the faculty, Dean Fehr would have introduced us, I'm sure."

"Cody will dig him up for you, don't worry."

"And speaking of Uncle Cody," Loralei began, "I think we should get downstairs before he has Rachel swinging from the light fixtures."  


	4. Another Professor Down

ANOTHER PROFESSOR DOWN

Both Brad Combs and Yancy Simons were new instructors at Mord.  No one knew, but they were also a couple.  They had begun dating not long after the new members of the faculty had a brief dinner meeting.  Brad wasn't really interested in Yancy.  He was barely attracted to her.  She was frumpy, dumpy, and kind of looked like a troll.  However, her mind was brilliant, and she was the best writer of the lot.  Donovan was prettier, of course, but she was also married and not as wonderfully gifted as Yancy.  Although Brad would die before he admitted it, but he was seriously lacking in the writing area.  He had good intentions and endless ideas flowing through him, but the moment he put his thoughts to paper, they fizzled out.  When he was hired with the others, he had actually brought in a paper written by someone else.  If the administration ever discovered his secret, he would surely be fired.  The dearly departed dean made it no secret that Mord was a research-based university.  Academics, not sports, brought in the big bucks.  Brad Combs was pretty much fucked, yet not fucked at the same time.  He was a fairly good-looking guy and he immediately noticed how Yancy stared longingly at him.  Well, he honestly didn't give a good ripe tin shit for her.  There were tons of better looking single women floating about and he didn't mind sampling the population.  He couldn't quite remember what had started the thing between him and Yancy.  How did he find out she was a fabulous writer?  Thinking back, he thought it started at the dinner.  Hadn't someone [maybe the dean] mentioned that just about everything she had ever written was published in every criminal justice journal in the US and abroad?  Suddenly, Yancy became as attractive as Miss America.  He had an immediate need to get to know her.  

Of course, dumpy, frumpy Yancy had been completely flattered by Brad's attention.  She had no idea what a guy as hot as him would want from her.  So very trusting, she didn't bother becoming suspicious of his actions.  After all, she really didn't expect him to ask her out or anything.  When he did, she thought she had died and gone to heaven.  Their first date had been at her place.  Yancy was a terrific cook and she had ensured that she made his favorite dishes.  She wanted to please this handsome co-worker.  Dinner progressed slowly and Brad seemed so very interested in her.  She never thought she could be any happier.  After they ate, Brad began perusing the books on her shelves.  She noticed that he had taken a particularly keen interest in her dissertation and the stack of journals she had collected.  She knew it was horridly self-centered of her, but she kept every issue of every journal that had published one of her research projects.  She watched as Brad picked up a volume and thumbed through the pages until he found her article.  Yancy knew she was a great writer, but whenever someone new read her stuff, she became nervous.  She wondered if he would hate it, if he'd think badly of her, and on and on.  However, his face held amazement and awe.  And he _was_ amazed and awed.  Oh yes.  Yancy wasn't just good; she was _damned_ good.  Somehow, some way, he knew he would have to get close enough to her so that she'd fall all over herself to write something for him.

After their first date, Brad kept sniffing around Yancy even more.  Brad didn't immediately hit on the writing stuff.  He was a bit subtler than that.  They would have dinner, Brad would provide her with a thrill or two, and then he would go home until the next date.  Eventually, Brad began to feel comfortable enough with her to mention his research project.  As he had hoped [and suspected…guys like him always did], Yancy was eager to hear his ideas and more than willing to offer suggestions.  Acting as if he were a shy little boy, he presented his notes to her and waited patiently, expectantly.  She had no more than gotten it read before she began making suggestions.  He appeared stupid and pretended he didn't know what she was talking about.  Yancy was an instructor after all, and she had no trouble 'showing' Brad what she was advising him to change.  In effect, she wrote word for word what he needed.  It was working beautifully according to plan.  In fact, his first project was halfway finished.  He couldn't wait to read his name in print and Yancy was too damn stupid to see what he was doing to her.

The death of Dean Fehr didn't do much to sway Brad's mission.  He was irritated at Yancy.  She was all upset and shit.  Brad didn't give a fuck.  He didn't care for Nick Fehr and made his dislike no secret.  He wouldn't admit it, but he was afraid of the dean.  If the man ever found him out…  He seriously didn't like thinking about that.  As soon as his work was published in a journal, he wouldn't have to worry again until next year.  Perhaps by then, he would be able to develop his own ideas and not have to deal with Yancy.  She was a convenient patsy, nothing more.  For an hour, he tried to direct her attention to his work.  He was anxious to have this done so he wouldn't have to look at her again.  There was a hot little number in one of his classes that he was quite interested in, and he couldn't make his move while 'dating' Yancy Simons.  Tonight, all she wanted to do was cry, moan, and groan.  She was Fehr's baby and she loved the stupid asshole.  For the last time, he tried steering her away from her grief and toward his project.  Damn her.  Why couldn't she understand that his shit was more important than her feelings?  Crap on her.  There was only one thing that would bring her out of her slump and the idea horrified him.  He wondered if she'd allow him to fuck her?  If he could fuck her, perhaps she would feel better.  If she felt better, she'd start writing again.  It was just his luck that Yancy consented and allowed him to take her to bed.  

*  *  *

He had followed them directly from the library where the woman was obviously doing some work for the man.  The couple was Combs and Simons, two of the newest instructors.  If he wasn't badly mistaken, Simons had a special place in Fehr's heart because of her writing ability.  He wanted her at the school to bring it more prestige.  She didn't realize she was better than this pissant school and she would probably stay at Mord until she retired.  Then again, would she live long enough to retire?  _You mustn't premeditate.  Premeditation is a baaaad thing._  His hand reached out to touch the thin log he had stolen from Fehr's kindling pile.  Despite the beating it took, it was still solid and would do for another couple hits.  From watching Simons, he had discovered that she had a habit of leaving her front door unlocked, especially when Combs was over.  Tonight, he hoped that she hadn't broken that particular habit.  He could kill two birds with one stone, so to speak.

*  *  *

Worn out, Brad couldn't keep his eyes open.  He hadn't intended on falling asleep in Yancy's bed, but he couldn't prevent it from happening no matter how valiantly he fought.  Perhaps once they awoke, Yancy would finish his shit.  His eyes closed and he slept, snoring softly, dead to the world.  Beside him, Yancy slept just as soundly and hadn't moved a muscle in over twenty minutes.  Neither of them heard the front door opening and then closing.  As silently as a thief in the night, he stole into the apartment and crept into the bedroom.  For a while, he stood at the foot of the bed and gazed upon the sleeping lovers.  What an odd pair they made.  However, he could see right through Combs.  He was an opportunist.  How could these people be better than him?  He would never understand it, not as long as he lived.  He would take out the man first and then go for the woman.  She would be easier to subdue.  It was time to teach the instructors the fine art of dying gracefully.  _Three down.  Three to go._

*  *  *

Loralei was having the falling dream again.  She realized that almost everyone experienced the same dream from time to time.  She supposed that tonight was her night.  Her body was falling down down down to the ground, the deep blue sky surrounding her.  She thought she was screaming, but she heard no sound leaving her.  As soon as her body hit the ground with a solid thud, she awoke breathless and sweaty.  Sitting straight up in bed, she had to fight the urge to scream.  At first, she thought she _was _screaming, but she realized it was the enraged squalling of her infant son emitting from the tinny speaker of the baby monitor.  Beside her, Donovan mumbled incoherently.  She slid out of bed and went to Tristan's room.  After a diaper change, she began pacing the floor with him, trying to soothe him back to sleep.  As much as Rachel had been, once Tristan was awake, it would take a ton of comforting to lull him back to sleep.  Eventually, his blatting cries settled the slightest bit and he allowed her to carry him to the old recliner.  She sat down with him and began to rock gently.  If she moved too suddenly, his cries would begin again, angrier than ever.  Loralei held her son close to her and found her mind wandering.  Cody had run the check on Andy Dannon.  There were no skeletons lurking in his closet and he was indeed an instructor.  Still, her encounter with him bothered her.  He was creepy and she hoped she'd never see his face again.  A contented little clucking noise drew her attention back to the infant in her arms.  He had finally drifted off again.  She was tempted to stay with him, but she was getting too damn old to sleep in the recliner.  Moving carefully, she carried him back to his crib and laid him down gently.  When she was certain he was settled in for a while, she slipped out of his room and went into Rachel's.  Tristan's indignant wailing hadn't disturbed her and she slept with her little arms wrapped snuggly around her pillow.  She reached out to her daughter and caressed the silky strands of her thick black hair.  Loralei wanted to take her into her arms and hold her for a while, but the movements would likely scare her more than offer comfort.  After a moment, she turned away and went back toward her own room.  She slipped back into bed, thinking that Donovan was still asleep.

"Are they okay," he asked suddenly, turning to his back.

"Yeah.  Tristan had diaper issues and I went in to check on Rachel because I was already up.  She hasn't moved a muscle nearly all night.  Even the baby crying didn't bother her."

"I would think not," he said.  "She had an active day.  I think Cody wore her out," he said lightly.

"I think so.  She loves him almost as much as her Uncle Farron and Aunt Kara."

He smiled a little.  "That's because they spoil her senseless.  I have a feeling that Tristan is next in line.  Right now, as tiny as he is, he's basically still ours.  In a few more months, look out."

"Ha," she said.  "I can only imagine.  Can't wait to see that brother of yours with his first child."

"That should be completely interesting," he said.  "Actually, I think it would be kind of…fun.  It would definitely give us a chance to spoil someone else's kid."

Loralei was about to make a comment when Donovan's cell phone rang.  Surprised, they both turned to glance at the clock.  Who would be calling him at this hour?  He slid out of bed and walked over to the dresser where he had laid his phone.  He picked it up after four rings and answered in his usual brusque fashion.  Loralei sat up in bed and watched him curiously.  She immediately noticed that he moved to the far side of the room.  Throughout the duration of their marriage, she had seen this dozens of times.  When he had the desire to protect her from something, he wouldn't allow her to listen in on his conversations.  She felt the familiar old irritation eating away at her.  She was more than tempted to get out of bed and follow him around the bedroom until he allowed her to eavesdrop.  Loralei knew it was none of her business, of course, but it obviously had something to do with her or he wouldn't care to speak in front of her.  She immediately connected his secretive behavior with what was going on at Mord.  It was a rare occasion when he received calls this early in the morning and when they did come in, it was never anything light.  She settled back against the headboard and watched as Donovan paced back and forth, all the while speaking quietly into the phone.  She was becoming quite pissed off.  Whether he wanted to or not, he _would_ tell her what was going on.  If he didn't, he would see no peace for the rest of the night.  She would make damn sure of that.

Donovan snapped his phone closed and laid it back on the dresser.  As nonchalant as he began the conversation, he ended it, and trotted over to the bed.  He slid beneath the covers and turned to his side, his back facing her.  Incredulously, she watched him as he settled in and tried to go back to sleep.  Was he obtuse enough to believe that she'd let him go so easily?  How long had they been together?  Oh hell no.  For two minutes or longer, she stared at his back.  He didn't even bother to look at her.  There was no way she'd allow him to go on as if nothing happened.  

"Frank?  What was that?"

Of course, he hadn't closed his eyes for half a second.  He had to admit that he indeed tried to duck his wife.  He was stupid to think that she'd let him get away with it.  Not Loralei.  Not this woman.  Damn it, he wanted to protect her, but this was a situation where she'd have to be involved to a tiny degree.  However, he wanted to think about it before he could discuss it with her.  It was clear that she wouldn't let him sleep [_As if I **could** sleep now_] until he talked to her.  Sighing, he turned slightly and pulled his body up to a sitting position.  Her jaw was set and determined.  _Good going, asshole.  She's really pissed now_.  "You won't let this go, will you," he asked softly.

She tilted her head to the side, keeping her body drawn into a tense knot.  "What do you think, Frank?  Have I ever?"

He shook his head.  "No, you haven't.  I'm sorry, but I did try to duck you."  She gave him a 'no shit' look and another sigh left him.  "Baby, it was Shoemaker.  By dawn, we'll have a priority case in our grasp.  It appears that your place of business has become the hunting ground for some sort of revenge oriented serial killer."

Her pissed off stance immediately changed to one of shock.  Her mouth fell open and she gazed at him steadily.  "What are you saying, Frank?"

"Two of your colleagues were found murdered, Loralei.  It was Brad Combs and Yancy Simons.  Simons' roommate found them in bed together, beaten too death.  They were killed in the same fashion as your dean and the student.  One of us will likely end up going UC as an instructor in your department."

"Oh Jesus," she gasped.  "I can't…can't believe this.  It seems that everything I touch turns to shit, Frank.  It does.  It truly does.  This shit follows me.  Can't you see that?  Damn it."

"Loralei, what the hell are you saying?  This is not your fault and doesn't make any sense.  _None_.  In fact, there is a good chance that you're next and that thought terrifies me.  Do you understand why I didn't want to tell you this?  _Do you_?  I knew you would do this to yourself."

"Jesus," she whispered.  "Jesus Christ."  She brought her legs up close to her body and buried her face into her hands.  "Jesus," she cried, the word muffled in her hands.  "What is happening?  What the hell is happening?"

Donovan took her wrists and drew her hands away from her face.  "Stop it, Loralei.  _Stop it_," he demanded.  She wouldn't answer him, wouldn't say a word.  She kept shaking her head.  He drew her into his embrace and held her close to him.  "Baby, you're overreacting," he said gently.  "I know this is upsetting you, but you cannot blame yourself."  He kissed the top of her head.  Mercilessly, she was still haunted by a stinking bitch already two years in her grave.  "Loralei, when are you going to forgive yourself for the fucked up mess that was known as Carly Butler?  This is where all your guilt and self-blame is coming from, isn't it?"  She said nothing, but he knew, he knew it as well as he knew her heart.  "You have to let this go, baby.  Let it out and rid your mind of it.  It's in the past and it's over.  We made sure of that, Loralei.  We made sure."

She didn't speak, didn't affirm or deny any of his words.  Instead, she tightened her hold on his body and clung to him, allowing him, just this once, to shield her from it all.  She didn't sleep for the rest of the night.

*  *  *

By the time the alarm sounded off, Donovan noticed that Loralei had already taken off with the children.  She left a brief note stating that she wanted to get some work done, but assured him that she wasn't setting foot on campus.  She gave no hint of her location, and this thought disturbed as much as irritated him.  If he had known her true destination, he would have flipped completely.

After leaving Tristan and Rachel with Angie downtown, she made her way to the public library.  It was relatively early, but she knew it would be open.  At first, she had no idea what motivated her to go.  With everything that was going on, she couldn't even _attempt_ to concentrate on her work.  Yet, she remembered that "Andy Dannon" had mentioned he was at the library on most days.  Today, she intended to watch for him.  It didn't matter that Cody could find nothing on the man; she _knew_ he was involved some way, shape, fashion, or form.  She was hell-bent to discover his connection.

As if she were simply following her new routine, she began searching the racks for her books.  She carried a pile over to an empty table and cracked open her first volume.  She read and surprisingly became engrossed.  Perhaps normalcy wasn't a far cry after all.  It was after eleven in the morning when she finally looked away from the book to jot down some notes.  It was at that time she saw him enter.  He had carried in his own stack of books and sat down with them.  At first, he purposely ignored her.  His behavior set her at ease.  Perhaps her suspicions were no more than conjecture.  Perhaps she had been wrong altogether.  It happened before, and was bound to happen repeatedly.  Loralei sighed and went back to her book.

"You're here bright and early," a voice said.

Loralei looked up and saw that Dannon had approached her table.  Her first instinct was to react negatively as she had done before, but she beat it back.  She cleared her throat and tried to smile.  "Yes.  Since the university is closed, I thought I could get a jump on my work."

He nodded thoughtfully.  "Yes, I understand.  I heard on the news this morning that two other people had been killed.  It's an insane world out there today, isn't it?"

"Definitely," Loralei said, her eyes never leaving his.  "Would you join me?"

He smiled a little.  "Of course."  He pulled out a chair and sat down with his armload of books.  He spread them out on the table and she noticed that the subjects of the volumes were similar to hers.  "Are you making any progress, Ms. Donovan?"

"A little.  Mr. Dannon, I'd like to apologize for what I said to you before.  When strangers approach me, I get a little…antsy.  I'd definitely like your assistance if the offer is still open."

His smile broadened, but never reached his ice blue eyes.  "Oh, it is.  It surely is.  It would be my extreme pleasure, Ms. Donovan.  I'm always willing to help a like-minded individual."   


	5. Doctor Donovan

DR. DONOVAN

Donovan was the first one in the office, as usual.  He noticed that the new case was already downloading from Central.  Of course, Shoemaker had given him all the details he needed, but he would still have to decide whom to send in.  It took maybe three seconds to make his final decision.  Any time Loralei was involved, he would throw himself directly into the mix.  He didn't go UC very often, but this time, he would.  Shoemaker wouldn't go for it, but Donovan didn't care.  If it were Shoemaker's wife under the gun, he might go UC himself.  He grabbed a notebook and carried it with him over to the conference table.  Once he seated himself, he scribbled down a name:  Andy Dannon.  There was absolutely nothing on him that would point to any type of psychosis.  He would have Monica run a profile on him anyway.  He had to have some type of connection, even if it was shaky.  As much as his wife before him, he couldn't let Dannon slip out of his mind, couldn't let go of him.  He sat back and wondered where the hell his wife had gone.  Suddenly, it came to him.  He was tempted to go after her.  He almost knew that this Dannon character was with her.  However, he couldn't blow his own cover before he even began his work.  He looked up when Monica entered.  

"Monica," Donovan called.  "I need your expertise.  We have a lot of work to do today."

*  *  *

Dannon sat across from Loralei and watched her for several minutes.  He was picking off the new instructors one by one, but he wanted to leave this one for last.  She had obviously obtained her job through sleeping with the dean.  He had seen them cozying up in her office, hadn't he?  Loralei could sense the man's eyes on her, but she refused to look up at him.  Just glancing at him gave her the willies.  She couldn't stand being near him much longer.  She longed to get away from here, to take her children in her arms and hide out at home for hours and hours.  Yet, there was still so much more that she wanted to try and discover about this man.  Whatever she learned, she would take it to the team.  Dannon had to be the man.  She wondered how hard it would be to access the dean's personnel files.  _Nosy little bitch_, Dannon thought as he listened to the probing questions flowing out of her mouth.  She was too nosy for her own good.  He told her only what she wanted to hear.  She didn't seem put off, but he didn't quite trust her.  He didn't trust any of the new people.  They were all dirty little job-stealing bastards.  There was something about her he didn't like [outside the fact that she had stolen his job, of course], something about her that tweaked his senses.  He found himself dying to dig into Fehr's personnel records.  He wanted to pick her brain all day, as much as she wanted to pick his.  Eventually, he was certain that he would discover all her secrets.  There were plenty to find.  

*  *  *

"Finally an assignment that doesn't have anything to do with Colombians," Jake said, shaking his head incredulously.  "Who's the prof?  Alex?  Cody?  Me?"

Donovan shook his head.  "None of the above.  I'm going in."  He took note of the facial expressions of his team.  They knew Shoemaker as well as he.  When he had stepped in during the Chance Casey fiasco, Shoemaker had nearly had an aneurysm.  "I know what you're thinking, and you're all probably right.  Shoemaker will not like this at all, but I don't care.  It's not that I don't trust any of you with Loralei's safety, with the safety of the remaining new professors, but I'd rather be there closer than the periphery."  He didn't wait for them to give any type of argument.  "You'll be the backup and my eyes and ears as always."  He focused his eyes on Jake before moving them to Alex.  "I want you both on campus as students.  I can set everything up with the university president.  Don't worry about Shoemaker, I'll handle him."

Alex cleared her throat.  She knew better than to protest his motivation when it came to his wife.  "Are there any suspects?"

"Only one," Monica said.  "Andy Dannon.  Cody ran a check on him previously and found absolutely no skeletons.  However, the boss insists that he is significant to this case.  We may be stumbling onto a dead lead, but if we can get our hands on the dean's files, we may find what we need there."

*  *  *

Donovan went home earlier than usual.  He and Loralei had a ton of shit to work through.  He was relieved to note that she was home as well.  She sat in the living room with Rachel on her lap and Tristan nestled in a carry crib nearby.  It appeared that she had just gotten home.  He joined his little family on the sofa and peered down at the baby.  He was sleeping contentedly and Rachel was nearly knocked out as well.  However, as soon as she saw him, she came to life and immediately demanded his attention.  He smiled a little as she crawled over to him and wrapped her arms around his neck.  There was nothing more pleasant that a giant bear hug from his daughter.  Loralei glanced up at Donovan, but said nothing.  He had on his 'serious face.'  He wanted to talk, it was obvious, but he would put it off as long as possible.  He would set it aside after he had sufficient time to love his wife and children.  In a few more months, Rachel would turn two, and he suddenly felt a bit sad.  Perhaps it was because he couldn't get his mind off what would have to happen in the next few weeks.  Separation.  He hated it, hated it more as each second passed.  He kissed Rachel's cheek and ran his hand over her head.  She had an amazing head of hair already.  It was thick and soft.  He glanced down at Tristan.  His son was barely two months old, had just become familiar with him and his mother.  Donovan had learned his cues as well as he had learned Rachel's.  He remembered how difficult it had been for Loralei when she had had to leave him and Rachel.  Now, he was the one who would have to leave, and this time, there was another child, another thought to tear him up inside.  He noticed as Rachel settled in comfortably against him, and he inhaled the special baby smell still so sharp and clear on her skin.  He never thought he would ever feel like this.  

"Where did you go this morning," he asked.  "You were gone by the time the alarm went off."

"I went to the library."  She noticed he opened his mouth to utter a litany of 'what the hell were you thinking' speeches, but she held up her hand.  "I know, Frank, I know.  I saw Dannon there again today and I didn't think it would hurt to speak to the guy.  Hell, I thought he might give me some idea of what kind of man he is.  I just wanted to follow up, that's all," she said.  

"I've been fighting with Shoemaker all morning," he began, "but I told him that I would do what I wanted.  I told you last night that one of the team would have to go UC at the school.  It's going to be me.  Alex and Jake are posing as students."  He watched as she opened her mouth to protest.  His own hand came up.  "I didn't tolerate arguments from the team, and I certainly won't tolerate them from you.  I don't feel comfortable putting your life in someone else's hands.  I'd rather be there with you and I don't want it any other way."  He sighed and then looked down at Rachel before focusing his eyes momentarily on Tristan.  "Since I'll be UC, I'll have to live somewhere else for a while until this is resolved.  Tomorrow, we meet with the university president to get everything set up.  I'll probably have to leave tomorrow night."

"And I'll have to treat you like a rank stranger," she said with her own sigh.  "Won't be fun by any stretch of the imagination."

"And I won't see the kids," he said, more of a reminder to himself than her.  

"Think about it, Frank," she said.  "Think about it before you do it.  Please?"

He shook his head.  "It's done."       

She nodded.  "Okay."  

Loralei took hold of the carry crib and made her way upstairs.  Donovan only lingered a few moments before he followed her with Rachel carefully cradled against him.  As he walked past Tristan's room, he peeked inside and saw Loralei lifting the baby out of the carry crib and placing him gently onto his bed.  He walked on with Rachel and put her in her bed.  When he came out of her bedroom, Loralei had just left Tristan's and was heading toward theirs.  He walked in behind her and caught her before she could move any further past the bed.  He was certain she had been on her way over to the window.  He felt the sudden need to hold her in his arms.  He wrapped his arms around her from behind and placed a gentle kiss on her ear.  

"I love you," he said.  

"I know," she said through a little sigh.  "I love you, too."

He drew away slightly and turned her to face him.  Half a second later, his lips met hers very gently, but when her hand came up to his cheek, the kiss suddenly became deep and urgent.  His hands moved restlessly over her, over her _entire_ body.  She moaned against his lips and moved her hands to the front of his body where she began unbuttoning his shirt.  Once his shirt was opened, she began working on opening his slacks.  During the kiss, their bodies turned a full circle and Loralei began pushing Donovan toward the bed.  They broke the kiss long enough for him to strip away her shirt.  The back of his legs hit the foot of the bed and he rebounded a little so that he wouldn't fall straight back.  After they shared a brief chuckle, their lips joined again.  She broke the kiss and forced him to sit down.  He reached for her, but she drew away.  Running his tongue over his lips, he watched as she stripped out of her clothing, placing it into a disorganized pile on the floor.  Each time he saw her body in its beautifully nude form, it never failed to arouse him, to entice him.  

"Lean back just a bit," she whispered.

He complied readily enough, propping up on his elbow.  He watched with an amazed little smile as she removed his shoes and socks.  She moved upward toward his opened slacks and tugged impatiently on them until they were off.  He sat up and reached for her again, but she moved away.  She straddled him and pressed her lower body into his as her tongue darted lightly over his slightly parted lips.  They worked together to free him of the shirt that still hung halfway on/halfway off his body.  He kissed her again, his hands roaming down the slope of her naked back and then onto her buttocks.  She moaned softly, the noise lost in their heated kiss.  He broke the kiss long enough to get his lips on her throat and he showered it with nibbling little bites as his hands moved around to her breasts.  His thumbs brushed against her nipples, hardening them, and she drew in a hissed breath.  She noticed that his thumbs were rough and a bit calloused, but only worked to increase the friction, the overwhelming sensation.  He definitely knew how to work her.  She could feel her insides turning to mush.  It was the little things he did that drove her so far off the edge.  Hadn't she thought that before?  

"I don't…don't want to be selfish," she whispered as his lips continued to torture her throat while his thumbs did equal justice to her nipples.  "I don't want you to go."

His lips and thumbs stopped simultaneously.  He pulled away just the slightest bit and gazed up at her.  "Do you think I _want_ to go?  Neither of us can 'do' separation very well," he said with a slight grin.  "I want you to be completely and totally selfish.  You don't have to put up a front to spare my feelings.  You don't have to lie to yourself or me.  Do it, Loralei.  I want you to."

She said nothing.  She kissed him hungrily, greedily.  He plunged his hands into her hair to hold her in place until they got their fill.  When the breathtaking kiss was finally broken, she lifted her body upward gently.  Her hand settled firmly upon him.  Keeping her eyes locked with his, she slid him into her slowly until he was completely sheathed inside her.  She held onto him desperately as they moved together and met equally explosive releases.

Much later, Donovan entered the kitchen and saw Loralei standing before the island counter busily making a sandwich.  She had donned the shirt he had discarded earlier and wore a pair of thick black socks on her feet.  He didn't know whether to laugh or attack her.  She had volunteered to come downstairs to make them each a monster sandwich while he tended to the needs of two cranky children.  He approached her from behind and wrapped his arms around her waist.

"You should be careful, Frank.  I'm armed," she said, wielding a small knife with a serrated edge.  

"I'll take my chances," he whispered, his lips against the side of her head.  "Those black socks are really making me hot," he said with a smile.  

"Oh, fuck you, Donovan," she said, not unkindly.  "My feet are cold.  Sue me."  She slapped a slice of bread on top of the pile of meat she had just laid out.  She held the sandwich out to him, nearly poking him in the eye with it.  "Take your dinner, my Lord."

He backed up and took the sandwich from her outstretched hand.  Her behavior was more for show than anything else.  He could read her like a well-worn novel.  Regardless of everything, she would damn well front.  It was something she could not fight away regardless of the situation.  Neither of them had much of an appetite, but he bit into the sandwich anyway.  Silently, he watched as Loralei rolled up a piece of bologna [_How the hell can she eat that shit_, he thought vaguely] and tucked nearly half of it into her mouth.  She turned toward him, luncheon meat in hand, and offered him a paper plate and napkin, which he took without comment.  Sighing, she ate the rest of her bologna and watched him solemnly.  Normally a voracious eater after an exhausting round of lovemaking, he had barely touched the sandwich.  He had basically just nibbled on it.  He set his plate aside and approached her.  Her arms encircled his waist as his hands came up to cup her face.  

He kissed her lips very softly and then pulled away.  "Ugh, baby, bologna breath," he whispered against her lips.

She laughed and nipped his bottom lip.  "Why did I marry such an irritating man," she asked.

He smiled against her lips.  "Your biological clock was ticking?"  He had already begun unbuttoning the shirt.

"You bastard," she sighed as his lips found the side of her throat.

"But you love me anyway, don't you?"

"Immensely."

*  *  *

When Loralei awoke the next morning, Donovan had already left for the day.  On any other morning, she might have gotten up and searched for him, but not today.  She didn't need to search.  He had left something behind for her indicating his departure.  There was a single long stemmed pink rose resting against his pillow.  Damn him.  He never failed to make her cry like a baby.

*  *  *

Donovan and the team were seated in the plush office of the university president.  Shoemaker had notified him the day before.  As Donovan waited for Metzger to speak, his mind drifted back to the shouting match he had had with his boss.  _This is the second time you have put yourself in a situation where you have conflicting interests.  I think you should turn it over to Agent Shaw, Frank.  You're too close_, Shoemaker had lectured.  Donovan's response had been brutally harsh:  _If my wife is a target, you can bet your ass that I'm going to be directly involved.  Either I go in, or none of us do, and I take matters into my own hands_.  Shoemaker didn't know if Donovan was bluffing or not.  _You do that, Frank, and you'll face serious consequences_.  As if he cared about consequences?  Once before, he hadn't cared, and he wouldn't care now.  He hated Shoemaker, hated him with an extreme fervor.  During that bitch fest, he had come close to telling Shoemaker where to shove it.  He hadn't felt anything but aggravation since the man took over.  He had never thought of quitting before, but he was very tempted to do so now.  However, he wasn't sure if temptation would actually lead to follow through.  _I don't need this shit_.

"Classes and university business will resume on Monday," Metzger said.  "Will your presence here disrupt?"

Donovan gawped at the man incredulously.  Four people were dead and he was worried about disruption?  He came close to asking the man if he were related to Shoemaker.  "No more than necessary," he said, controlling his temper with everything in him.  "We'll try to get in and out.  The first and most important request I must make is that we be allowed to inspect Nick Fehr's personnel files."

Metzger nodded.  "That shouldn't be a problem."

*  *  *

Loralei had just gotten Tristan down when she heard the phone ring.  She moved quickly toward the bedroom before the baby began to wail again.  She grabbed the phone on the fourth ring.  "Yeah?"

"_Yeah_," Donovan's voice said amusedly.  "All I get is a _yeah_?"

"I'm so sorry to insult you, my love," she said with a smile.  "Thanks for making me cry this morning."

"You're more than welcome.  Tonight, I have to stay at a hotel.  Tomorrow, I'll be set up somewhere else.  I probably won't see you until Monday and won't see the kids for a couple of weeks."  He had wanted to add 'I hope' to the end of that, but he bit it back.  He was having enough difficulty as it was.  "I just wanted to call and tell you how much I love you."

"Me too," she said.  "So…when I see you on Monday, don't be offended if I don't say hi.  I can be incredibly stuck up."

He chuckled warmly.  "I'll remember that.  Give the kids a kiss for me, would you?"

"It'll be my pleasure, baby."

"I have to go.  I love you."  Without another word, he hung up.

Loralei replaced the phone back in its charger.  It was late and she should have been exhausted, but she couldn't sleep.  She went to her office and sat before her computer.  She opened a blank Word document and began typing out her idle thoughts.  She had to do something to distract her mind.  She didn't feel good about this assignment.  Her worry ate at her soul and tweaked her nerves.  Something would happen, something bad, and she wasn't sure she could stop it.


	6. First Encounters

FIRST ENCOUNTERS

_Oh my God_.  He couldn't believe it.  He had heard that the university president had hired a new instructor.  _A new one_.  President Metzger should have been falling all over himself to hire him back.  Instead, he brought in a new guy.  Damn it.  It was simply one more name to be added to his list.  _Mittel Föderativ.  _What the hell kind of name was _that_?  He would have to sniff around a bit and check him out.  He couldn't just walk up there in broad daylight; he didn't want Loralei Donovan to see him in a school-type situation just yet.  Her time would come soon enough.  However, the temptation was too great.  He went back to his apartment just long enough to dress down.  He didn't think anyone would recognize him.  He would look like a 'mature' student, nothing more.  He left his apartment and made his way back to campus.  Casually he strolled toward the Arts and Sciences building and took the front steps two at a time.  He pulled his hat over his eyes and moved down the hall.  He ducked by Donovan's office, but it was obvious she hadn't come in yet.  Good.  He moved down the hall and peeked into the offices with opened doors.  He saw a man gazing blankly at a notebook.  He walked past the room, but double backed.  He wanted to get a better look at him.  At first, he thought Nick Fehr's ghost had come back to haunt him.  Like Fehr, he was tall with black hair.  Unlike Fehr, this man had a dusting of gray at the temples.  He was wearing a pair of thin-framed gold-rimmed reading glasses.  The fellow was dressed in blue jeans, a button down shirt, and a tan sports coat.  Damn.  How could one man look so much like another?  Screwy.  There was no nameplate on the door, but this man was most obviously Föderativ.  He again puckered his face in disgust.  _What the hell kind of name is that_?  He moved quickly before he was spotted.  

He didn't realize that he _was_ spotted.  Donovan had felt a pair of eyes on him.  From the corner of his eye, he saw an odd-looking man slip past the office before rebounding and walking back.  Instantly suspicious, he had wanted to follow this man, to find out if he was the one stalking his wife at the public library.  There would be more time for that, more time to dig once he had his hands on Fehr's files.  Until then, he would have to wait.  He wouldn't have a report from Alex or Jake until later, but he had heard some talk on campus.  There were several students who hadn't bothered to return because of the murders, but for the majority of the university population, it was business as usual.  He glanced down at his wristwatch.  In another hour and a half, the president intended to 'introduce' him to the remaining faculty and graduate students.  He simply hoped he could pull off this teaching thing.

Although utterly dying to see her husband, Loralei acted moderately annoyed when she was interrupted and told about a surprise faculty meeting.  She sighed, exasperated, as she stood and followed Reed down the hall and into a conference room in the late dean's office.  Loralei was completely aware of Donovan seated at the far end of the conference table.  She purposely sat on the other end.  She had very few problems pretending that her husband was a rank stranger, but if he laid his eyes on her for one solid minute, her act just might fly out the window.  She wondered almost vaguely how he had come up with the glasses, the jeans, and the jacket.  He did look hot.  Of course, Donovan noticed her, but he kept his poker face in tune.  He was so much better than her.  It had been several days and she missed the hell out of him.  He sat back quietly and waited for the president to begin his speech and the introductions.  Of course, Metzger had noted that his and Loralei's last names were the same, but he hadn't elaborated.  The fewer people who knew they were married, the better.  If it got around to the killer [_Dannon_], they would lose whatever ground they had gained.  

"Considering the tragic circumstances surrounding the deaths of Fehr, Combs, and Simons, I'm glad the rest of you came back," Metzger began [_Could his opening line be any worse_, Donovan thought distastefully].  "Unfortunately, this means all your work loads will increase, but not to the point we first thought.  Mittel Föderativ comes to us from Germany as a _loaner_ so to speak."  [_Your skills of articulation are severely lacking_, Loralei thought].  "Mittel, I'd like for you to meet Jack Reed; he's our resident statistician, Marvin Zimmerman; he teaches most of our sociology courses, and finally, Loralei Donovan; she's our criminal justice expert."  They all exchanged brief, cursory chitchat before Metzger introduced Mittel to the dozen or so graduate students standing around the conference table.  After the bustle and bullshit was over, Metzger cleared his throat.  "Any volunteers willing to show Mittel around?"  No one volunteered, all of them begging off for other 'duties.'  "How about you, Donovan," he said suddenly.

She wondered if he knew she was married to "Mittel."  _Oh this is entirely too convenient_.  "I really need to prepare for class," Loralei said.  "Perhaps one of the graduate students could…"

"No, Donovan, you'll do fine.  Please, show him around, get him acquainted with the department."

"Very well," she said before fixing her eyes on the gorgeous bespectacled man.  "Mr. Föderativ…if you'll follow me," she said blandly.

He nodded toward her.  "Please, it's Mittel," he said, affecting a German accent.

Dear God.  She was thrown back to the night of the fake party, the one that got her severely chewed out.  _Agent Kadin at your service_.  Two years.  Jesus.  "Fine," she said with little interest.  "Mittel it is.  I'm Loralei."  She stuck her hand out and waited patiently for him to shake it.  

_Oh she is really reaching, isn't she_, Donovan thought.  If he touched her, he was certain his cover would be blown to bits.  However, he was up to the challenge.  They had had to play act before, hadn't they?  He took her hand into his briefly.  "Very nice to meet you…Loralei was it?"

She nodded.  "Yes, Loralei.  If you'll follow me," she repeated.

_I'd gladly follow you to hell if it meant you'd kiss me just once_, he thought as he followed her out of the conference room.  The two of them walked sedately down the hall and Donovan kept his hands folded behind his back.  He stood so very close to her and listened as she spoke softly about the department, where he could find things, and which classroom was which.  He could smell her wonderful strawberry scent radiating directly from her hair, and he longed to touch it, to plunge his hands into the thick fall of her beautiful auburn locks.  However, he played his role and kept his hands to himself.  It wasn't easy.  It wasn't any easier for Loralei.  She hadn't seen or heard from him in four days.  It killed her to be away from him.  What made it worse was that Rachel watched for her father every night and had a hard time going to sleep without Donovan's presence.  Even Tristan's schedule seemed out of whack.  There was little else she could do.  She couldn't risk bringing the kids to him as he had done for her, because if Rachel saw him, she'd scream "Daddy" at the top of her lungs, effectively blowing his cover.  Yet, she did have an idea or two floating through her mind, a way to repay another debt owed.  

At the end of the 'tour,' Loralei walked him back toward his office and lingered only for a moment.  Any longer than that, and she'd thoroughly lose it.  However, in that moment, they exchanged a knowing gaze, transmitting every thought and emotion rushing through them.  "So, Mittel, this is it," Loralei said through a little sigh.  "If you need anything, you know where to find me."

"Yes," he said, "I do."  Betraying his cover for the slightest bit, he gazed her.  He presented his hand to her.  "Thank you."

She took it very briefly.  "No problem."

He didn't linger or watch her leave.  Instead, he turned and entered the stuffy confines of his office.  He was completely horrified at the thought of teaching, but he was pretty sure he could pull it off.  He should know a few things here and there about criminal justice.  He wasn't altogether certain what he had actually gotten himself into.  Before he delved too far into this new and confusing world, Donovan dug around in the desk drawer for the key to the dean's office that Metzger had provided earlier.  He needed to get in there and snoop around before Loralei went off to confront Andy Dannon again.  Casually, he left the office [longing to go to Loralei] and walked down the hallway toward the former dean's quarters.  Looking around cautiously and seeing no one, he slid the key into the lock and opened the door.  He slipped inside the office as quickly and as lithely as possible.  He didn't want to garner the attention of anyone.  However, he had chosen the perfect time to explore.  The halls were relatively clear because many students had refused to return.  He actually couldn't blame them.  He went over to the low filing cabinet and was forced to go through five or six keys before he found the one he needed.  There were several files inside and he flipped through them impatiently.  All of them were alphabetically arranged and "Dannon" should have been fairly close to "Donovan," but irritatingly enough, it wasn't.  He went through the hundreds of files again, thinking he might have skipped over it.  No damn such luck.  He leaned back a little and let out a low growl of frustration.  He shook his head in disbelief as he experienced one of Loralei's patented 'duh' moments.  _There is more than one drawer, you dumb ass_.  Of course, it didn't dawn on him that there could be a separate drawer for closed files.  _Think Donovan_.  He slid open another drawer and was faced with yet more dark brown six-part folders.  He thumbed through them with the same impatience he had displayed with the other drawer.  Nothing.  _Damn it_.  Where the hell had he hidden the file?  If Dannon were an instructor here, there had to be a file somewhere.  He straightened his body from its cramped kneeling position and turned to the expensive executive desk.  The drawers had locks and he would have bet his ass that none of them were open.  _What the hell_.  He tried one anyway, and as he expected, found it locked.  He sighed in exasperation and hoped there was a key on the ring that would unlock them.  He tried them all.  Nothing.  _Shit_.  He had the greatest urge to throw the keys across the room.  He leaned back in the equally expensive executive chair and stared balefully down at the desk.  His eyes spotted another drawer in the middle.  Frustrated, he reached over to it and pulled, never expecting it to come open, which was what happened.  Inside was a lovely gold toned key that would fit beautifully into the drawer locks.  He took the key and tried the first drawer.  His eyes beheld yet more folders, lo and behold, "Dannon" was right there.  _What a sneaky fellow that Fehr was_.

Feeling the heft of the file as he grasped it, he pulled it out and laid it on top of the desk.  Taking off the hindering eyeglasses, he cracked the file open and began the tedious process of digging for information.  He flipped through page after page until his arms grew tired.  For a moment, he didn't think he would find anything.  _Another dead lead and more time away from my wife and children_.  He turned to another section, this one thicker than the rest of the folder.  He hit pay dirt after a few arm exhausting turns.  The first document that drew his attention was a disciplinary write-up.  Fehr [he assumed] had written:  _Dannon was teaching a Criminal Procedure class and brought in a fully loaded handgun.  He claimed that he was using it as a visual aid.  When I tried to explain to him that it was dangerous, he laughed._  The next few turns revealed several photocopied progress reports.  Most of them were glowing reviews of a brilliant professor.  However, they had revealed a slow decline dated up until about two months ago.  Fehr had scrawled:  _Dannon's mental stability is questionable.  A student saw him standing stark naked before a blackboard writing gibberish.  His history denotes the loss of a wife and child.  Recommend for immediate sabbatical or termination_.  Was this enough?  He needed to get the file to Cody and Monica so they could decimate it.  Donovan searched around for a portfolio folder and luckily found one in another drawer.  He emptied its contents and stuffed the thick file inside.  Moving with the same litheness, he left the dean's office and went back to his own.  He realized with something close to a pang of horror that he had a class in thirty minutes.  Somehow, some way, he would have to warn Loralei, but he had no time.

*  *  *

Although she wasn't hungry, Loralei wandered into the cafeteria with a bag of carrots.  She snagged a bottle of water, paid for it, and walked toward the little table that she had selected as her very own territory.  As she seated herself, her eyes scanned through the crowd and she spotted Donovan four tables over to the right.  She remembered having lunch with him on her first day and smiled a little.  His bravery must have increased tenfold for him to ever enter this place again.  She settled back, trying not to draw attention to herself and absently began munching on a carrot stick.  She tried, but failed, to keep her eyes off him.  She was willing him to look her way, but knew it wasn't a good idea for him to do so.  She focused her eyes downward and tried to concentrate on her carrots.  Slight movement toward his table forced her to look up.  Curiously, she watched as a super model'esque blonde approached his table [ugh…it almost brought back images of Ennui Principio].  He looked up at her as if he recognized her from somewhere.  The blonde joined him at his table, doing all the little flirty things women did to get a man's attention:  a subtle toss of the hair, a smile, and a coquettish giggle.  And of course, her husband was taking it all in stride.  Loralei felt two ways at once, amused and jealous.  Part of her wanted to laugh it off as a 'who could blame her' stray thought.  Yet, another part wanted to smack the giggling blonde twit.  _Back off, Claudia_, she thought, _he's a married man_.  After boring her eyes into the woman for a couple of minutes, she realized that she was a graduate student in the CJ department.  _She's all touchy feely, isn't she_, Loralei thought as she watched the blonde put her hand comfortably on Donovan's arm.  _Okay, you turd, tell her to go away and leave you alone.  I'll snatch the bitch bald if you don't_.  When she realized that "Claudia" wasn't going anywhere, she decided to split.  She didn't want to watch the display.  She wasn't afraid her husband would attack the blonde or anything, but it showed her what she was missing.  Her eyes spied a tall wastebasket near their table.  _Hmmm_.  She gathered up her carrot bag and bottle and moved toward them.  As she came closer, she could hear bits and pieces of their conversation.  _Oh yes, I consider myself a great cook.  French cuisine is my specialty_, "Claudia" cooed.  _Uh huh.  I'll bet you cook really well, don't you sweetness_, Loralei thought as she drew nearer still.  Loralei couldn't see, but Donovan's attention became focused on her as she strolled casually behind the blonde.  _No, baby, don't_, Donovan thought.  Loralei's elbow hit the back of the blonde's head.  SMACK.  _It's too late for don't_.  

"_Shit_," the blonde cried as her glass of iced tea spilled down the front of her pristine white shirt.

"Oh my gosh," Loralei uttered, horrified.  "Oh darlin,' I didn't mean to bump into you like that.  And your shirt.  It's completely ruined!"  Before she walked away, she focused her eyes on Donovan's face, noticing that he didn't know whether to laugh or choke her.  "Oops.  I suppose I ruined your nice lunch date.  Sorry," she said as she left them.

*  *  *

That evening, Loralei lingered in her office.  Angie wasn't expecting her to pick up the kids for another hour, and she took the time to catch up on a little paperwork.  She was tempted to go to the library and search for Dannon again, but it would mean more aggravation and separation.  She glanced up when she heard a soft rapping on her door.  For the briefest of moments, she thought it might be Dannon, and a slice of fear entered her.  Instead of calling out, she went over to the door and opened it.  She smiled a little as she recognized her visitor.  

"After hours, Mittel," she asked with a little smile.

He nodded.  "Yeah."  He had taken an incredible risk, but at the moment, he didn't give a damn.

She moved away from the door quickly so he could enter the room.  When she had the door closed, she attempted to face him and made a fairly decent one eighty turn before she felt his hands on her arms.  He pressed her body against the door, completing her turn for her.  Before she had an opportunity to blink, speak, or breathe, he swooped in for a hungry kiss, effectively consuming her.  Startled by the sudden move, she was immobile at first, but soon recovered enough to plunge her hands into his hair.  A soft sound escaped her as his tongue entered her mouth to passionately plunder the inside of hers.  After several breathtaking moments, he broke the kiss and leaned his forehead against hers.

"I've missed you so much," he whispered huskily, his eyes darkening with unrequited need.

"Have you," she asked with a smile.  "Could have fooled me.  You seemed pretty cozy with that blonde at lunch."

He chuckled.  "You are evil, my love."  He pulled back just a bit so he look down at her.  "She _was_ kind of hot," he said teasingly.

Loralei shook her head.  Unbelievable.  "Was she now?"

"Yeah, but she obviously had a drinking problem of some kind, didn't she," he asked with a mock accusatory tone tainting his voice.  He sighed as if suddenly disinterested in her.  "She was definitely a gorgeous, gorgeous woman, even with iced tea all over the front of her shirt.  But you know," he said as his fingers began to work open the buttons on her blouse.  "As hot as she was, there was only one woman on my mind, only one who I've wanted since first seeing her this morning."  When the last button was undone, he drew the blouse off her shoulder.  His lips and nibbling teeth found the delicate flesh at the side of her throat and down her shoulder.

"Really," she said as she closed her eyes tightly.  "And who was that?"

"The blonde has a really hot friend," he said smiling against her skin.

She laughed.  "You bastard."

"Thank you," he said.

"Frank," she whispered, "I want you."

"It's too risky," he said as his hand slid inside her opened blouse.

"I know," she moaned, "but I want you."

His lips switched sides.  "I want you, too."

"You're right, though.  It _is_ too risky."

"No.  I need you.  I need you _now_."

The moment the words left his mouth, they worked furiously to rid their bodies of just enough clothing barriers to allow him to sink so very deeply inside her.  Up against the door.  Hard and heavy.  Tremendous release.

*  *  *

Later, they sat together on the floor of Loralei's office as she silently thumbed through Dannon's personnel file.  "Looks like he's our guy," she said.

"Exactly," he said, taking the file from her, "which means I don't want you near him, Loralei.  You don't have to play detective any longer.  Cody will dig around for everything he can.  Jake and Alex have discovered that almost everybody heard about what happened to Dannon.  He'll go after one of us, but I don't think it's you, not yet.  Don't ask how I know that, because I can't explain it.  The only thing I can say is that if he wanted you now, he would have struck already."

She nodded.  "Okay.  Are Jake and Alex going to watch Reed and Zimmerman?"

"Yes, but on the periphery.  We don't want to scare him off.  He has followed all of them home."  He cupped her chin in his hand and gazed down into her eyes.  "Keep your eyes and ears open."

"Always, my love," she whispered.

He kissed her gently and then drew her into his embrace.  "I have to go.  I love you, LD."

Without giving her a chance to reciprocate, he stood and left her.  She sighed deeply and ran her fingers over her lips where his kiss still burned her.  She wasn't quite finished playing detective just yet.  


	7. A Little Spy Work

A LITTLE SPY WORK

After Donovan left her, Loralei was tempted to follow him out.  She knew he was going 'home,' because he stated as much, but he wouldn't tell her where it was.  However, Loralei was wily and sneaky enough to find it on her own unless Donovan spotted her first.  It was possible.  After all, how many damn times had he snuck up on her without her knowing until he touched her or breathed on her?  She got her shit together and made her way out to the parking lot, hoping that she'd see him before he was totally out of sight.  Her luck was in.  She watched as he walked steadily down the sidewalk toward the faculty housing a few blocks down from the main campus.  Perfect.  He was staying relatively close and within walking distance.  Loralei gasped aloud when Donovan suddenly stopped walking.  She ducked down quickly.  He couldn't see her.  If he did, her detective work would piss right out.  _The turd probably 'senses' my presence.  He knows my car_.  She often wondered if her husband was psychic or some shit.  She was afraid to look up; afraid he'd be standing right over her, furious, demanding that she tell him what she was doing.  _Why nothing, my love, only a little stalking_.  Well, hell's bells.  She might as well stand and face the music [or pissed off husband].  She sighed and rose up, noticing that Donovan had begun to walk again.  Quickly, she straightened up her body and threw her shit into the front seat of her car.  After locking it up tightly, she followed behind him at a safe distance.  Any moment now, she expected him to turn around.  She kept scanning the area surrounding her, trying to find a convenient place to duck if he stopped.  Luck was with her again.  Some night classes were adjourning and there were dozens of people in between her and Donovan now.  It provided her with a little cover, but Donovan wasn't stupid.  He knew her when he saw her, and it didn't help that her hair color stuck out like a sore thumb.  

When Donovan stopped walking again, Loralei stood back and plastered her body against the far wall of a nearby building.  Oh yeah.  She was familiar with this little area of the campus.  It was a construction zone.  The university was building some type of Fine Arts building and the workers often took up the parking spaces of the residents.  She heard more than one faculty member complaining.  Donovan paused only long enough to watch for traffic and then he crossed the busy street.  She didn't have to take many more steps to find his destination.  She ducked behind the same building and watched him carefully.  He stepped up to a small house three or four blocks down from the construction zone.  A sidewalk ran directly in front of it, no more than three or four feet away.  She smiled a little.  A wonderful idea suddenly sprang up in her head.  It was all she needed to see.  She hauled ass before he saw her.

*  *  *

The next morning, Donovan came out of the shower and heard his work cell phone ringing shrilly.  Concerned, he was certain something had happened.  He hoped it wasn't Jake or Alex reporting another murder.  He picked up the phone and flipped it open.  Sighing, he said, "Donovan."

"Don't yell at me," Loralei said, "but I wanted to show you something."

"Loralei?  What the hell are you doing?"

"Take the phone over to the window.  Once you get there, peek out, but don't be obvious about it."

"Loralei?  What are you doing," he repeated.

"Stop asking questions and just do it.  Okay?"

Donovan sighed heavily and walked over to the window.  As she instructed, he stuck his fingers through the blinds and made an opening.  When he saw what she had done, he felt two ways at once.  He wanted to strangle her for taking such a huge risk.  Yet, those feelings were overshadowed by his great love for her, and the ever so touching sentiment.  Loralei was strolling slowly and casually past this hideous hellhole of a house.  She had both kids in a stroller and he watched as she lifted up Rachel first, as if she were simply a woman who desired a hug from her child.  She put her down and reached for Tristan next.  She sat down on the grass with the baby in her arms and saw Rachel plop down right beside her.  She seemed to be confused about her mother's sudden interest in this particular spot of grass, but it didn't stop her from crawling around and examining things here and there.  To any other person, they looked like nothing more than a mother and children taking a break from a long walk.  He longed to go out to them, to hold them, love them.  He listened to the loud squeal of his daughter and the gentle coos and gurgles of his son.  He had grown so accustomed to both that he barely noticed it.  However, today, it seemed as if it was the first time he had ever experienced this.  It was music to his ears.  He was horrifyingly close to tears.  He saw Loralei pick up the phone again.

"I thought it was time to repay another debt owed," she said softly.

"Goddamn, I love you," he whispered harshly.  "All your debts are settled, my love.  _All _of them.  Past, present, and future."

"Just returning the favor, babe.  I love you, too."

"Could you stay?  Just for a minute?"

"Oh yeah, we're not going anywhere, not for a while."

*  *  *

He sat in the public library, hoping that Loralei Donovan would return.  Without fail, she had come in almost every night since Dean Fehr had met his demise.  He counted out the remaining instructors:  Reed, Zimmerman, Föderativ, and Donovan.  He would hit Reed and Zimmerman first.  He had already decided to save Donovan for last.  He wasn't sure why this was so, but he supposed it was due to her seemingly clever mind.  When he had heard of the new people, he had done as much snooping as was humanly possible.  He'd heard Fehr crowing about his people, commenting that each had brought something special to the department.  Although Donovan irritated the dean, he mentioned that she had once been in the FBI for a brief stint.  When former FBI agents asked for a job, a guy just had to hire them.  Of course, he didn't think she was suspicious of him yet, but it was a joy toying with her.  He liked the fact that his presence didn't seem to worry or freak her out.  It had been a few days since he'd eliminated some of his competition, and it was nearly time to take another out.  Too bad Zimmerman and Reed weren't lovers.  He rather liked whacking them two at a time.  However, he had to find a new method.  The thin log was rendered useless after Combs and Simons were taken care of, but there was no way he could go to Fehr's condo and grab another.

Although he didn't shake Donovan, _he_ was shaken by the newest addition to the Mord family.  Föderativ was an odd duck.  From what he had observed in the last few days, he kept to himself.  He'd heard a couple of students discussing him.  They were females and fawned and cooed over him mostly, but they also said he was pretty good.  Yet, he didn't believe the man was a professor.  He didn't carry himself like one.  _You're paranoid_, he thought.  He had been lucky.  Thus far, no one had pointed a finger at him, even though almost everyone at the university knew of his past.  Andy Dannon sighed heavily.  She wasn't going to show up tonight.  It was time for him to go home and plan out his next move.  He pushed his chair back from the table and slowly stood.  Right before he turned his back to walk away, he grinned.  A bit late, but Donovan had shown up after all.  Instead of immediately sitting down, he walked over to his favorite shelf of books and began selecting a volume here and there.  His and Donovan's game was always the same.  He'd pick out books, she'd follow his lead, and they would sit down and discuss everything from Dr. Seuss to psychosis.  When he came around the corner, she saw him and nodded politely.  He did the same.  Her elimination would be special.

*  *  *

Donovan sat in the tiny living room of his faculty house.  He hated this place, hated it more as each day passed.  There had been no other murders in quite a few days.  He didn't understand what Dannon was waiting for.  The lack of a new murder had settled down the campus and he noticed that the students were more into their lives than ever before.  Jake and Alex had been keeping close watch on Zimmerman and Reed, reporting absolutely nothing suspicious.  In fact, they had yet to see Dannon.  If something didn't happen soon, Shoemaker would pull them out.  He didn't agree with the theory that the killer was Dannon.  Too much time had passed between murders, and the idiot believed that the deaths of Fehr, Dover, Simons, and Combs had been some type of extraordinary coincidence.  He again found himself thinking that Shoemaker was a blathering fool.  _I'm giving you two more weeks, Donovan.  If you haven't secured a suspect by then, I'm pulling the team out and giving it back to the police.  It won't be a FBI matter any longer_, Shoemaker had said.  The man was entirely convinced that Donovan only wanted to be involved because of Loralei.  She was a major part of it, but not the _only_ reason.  If they were forced to back out, and if anything happened to his wife, Donovan would ensure that Shoemaker would pay and pay dearly.  He didn't doubt that he'd revert back to that cold-hearted rogue agent who nearly took out Carly Butler with his bare hands.

He stood up and walked over to the window.  He peered through the blinds, as if he expected Loralei and the children to be sitting out on the grass.  He missed them, missed the hell out of them, but he would endure the separation for as long as it took if it meant no harm would come to her.  Frustrated, he knew they had to move, had to tie Dannon to the murders.  There had been little physical evidence, only a few spots of blood here and there, but what good was blood if there was no suspect?  He had the sudden irresistible urge to hear his wife's voice.  He had seen her earlier today, but hadn't exchanged three words with her.  She had donned a complete 'ew' façade when it came to his alter ego.  It was the only way either of them could keep their wits about them.  The only time he had nearly blown his cover was after a remark made by Reed:  _That Donovan is really nice looking when she keeps her mouth closed.  I'd love to find out if her hair is **truly** that color_.  It had taken sheer iron will to avoid breaking his nose, and he had come close to commenting that yes, her hair was _really_ that color.  Then he would have cheerfully killed the man.  Instead, he had bitten his tongue and walked away.  He didn't take kindly to the blatant disrespect of his wife.  Sighing [_fuck it_], he walked back over to the couch and grabbed his cell phone off the end table.  Although risky, he needed to speak to Loralei, to hear the screaming calls of his daughter, and the wailing cries of his son.  He dialed the number and listened to the phone ring.  _Come on, baby, pick up.  I need you_.

"Hello."

He recognized the voice, of course, but it wasn't Loralei.  "Kara?"

"Oh, hi, Frank.  How are you?"

Donovan recalled that Loralei had told his brother and sister in-law that he had gone out of town.  "Fine.  I assume Loralei isn't there if you are.  Do you know where she is?"

"She said something about working on an article.  I think she said she would be in her office for the next few hours.  She'll be disappointed that she missed you," Kara said.

_In her office_?  She wasn't in her office.  She had left before he did and there was no mention of her working late at school.  _Loralei, if you are where I think you are…  _"Yes," he said.  "I'm sure she will.  If you see her, tell her I called."  After hearing Kara's promise to pass along the message, Donovan disconnected the call.  _She's at the fucking library, picking Dannon's brain clean.  What the hell is she thinking_?

Donovan hadn't been to the public library in some time, but he had no trouble finding it.  He knew exactly where she would be, and he headed right for that area, taking care to stay in the shadows in case Dannon noticed him.  Tonight, he wasn't "Mittel."  He was Frank Donovan, severely worried and pissed off husband.  He heard her voice before he saw her.  He stopped short of entering the area where she sat and he ducked behind a tall shelf loaded with books.  He peered around the corner and saw that she was sitting with an older man, seemingly engrossed in conversation.  _Damn that woman.  Why is she so fucking stubborn_?  It was her way or no way.  He was close to approaching her in the clear.  Fuck Dannon.  He was tired of this shit and longed to lock Dannon away.  Instead of acting on his impulse, he remained standing behind the shelf.  Eventually, she would rise.  He didn't mind waiting, he had no trouble being patient, but the longer he waited, the angrier he became.  How long had she been doing this?  He heard the soft scrape of a wooden chair as it was pushed back from a table.  Excellent.  

Loralei moved past the shelf that was providing cover for Donovan, but she didn't immediately see him.  She walked down an aisle directly across from where he stood.  As she turned to grab a book that had caught her eye, she saw him.  She faced him with a look he had seen before.  _Oh shit.  Busted_.  He gazed at her with a lifted eyebrow.  He didn't want excuses or an explanation.  He wanted a guarantee that she would never approach the creep again.  Would he get that?  Probably not, especially when it was Loralei Kadin-Donovan with whom he was dealing.  He waited expectantly, knowing that she'd approach eventually.  _Five seconds, and I'm coming after **you**_, he thought.  Slowly, she walked toward him, keeping her eyes peeled for Dannon.  If he saw Donovan, the game would end.  Once she made it within arms reach, Donovan reached out and took hold of Loralei's wrist.  Off to the side near the aisle was a small room the library called a 'carrel.'  They were small study rooms that offered soundproof accommodations.  Luckily, this one was empty, and he dragged his wife inside.  At first, he didn't know whether to kiss her or choke her.

"What the hell are you doing," he demanded, trying his damn best to keep his voice at a calm, controlled level.  "Don't you realize this man is a killer and you're on his short list?  Has that failed to enter your mind?"

"No," she said, "It hasn't.  How could it, Frank?"  Her green eyes were flashing angrily.  Oh yes.  This discussion would be a fun one.  Would tonight turn into another angered separation such as they endured when Rachel was still an infant?  "This is affecting me as much, if not more than you."

"Don't you see what you're doing, Loralei?  You're trying to redeem yourself again, and it's putting you in a situation that you cannot control.  It's over, Loralei.  That part of your life is in the past, and it needs to stay there.  How difficult would it be for him to harm you?  I haven't said this to you often, but tonight, I think it's necessary.  Stay out of it, Loralei.  Leave it to us."

"Leave it to the _professionals_," she blurt bitterly.  "That hurts, Frank, it really hurts."  She jerked her wrist out of his hand and backed away a few steps.  "You above all others should realize what's going on inside me right now.  Call it redemption or stupidity or insanity.  Choose your adjective, Frank, almost anything will fit.  I want it to stop before something happens to you, because _you_ are on his short list as well, or do _you_ not realize it?"  It was the separation, she knew this.  There was so much stress, anguish, and depression that when they did have a moment alone, they wound up fighting about something.  She hadn't said anything to Donovan, but she'd been having terrible nightmares and wasn't sleeping well.  She had had Kara come over a dozen times and ruined more than one of her blouses crying on her shoulder.  She didn't want to burden her already preoccupied sister in-law, but there was no one else there for her.  "I'll collect my shit, go home, and leave this to the _professionals_."

Before her hand fell on the doorknob, Donovan's hand shot out again and he took hold of her forearm.  "Baby, wait."  She didn't turn toward him.  "I'm sorry.  I want this to end, but it has to be done on my terms.  I will not bend on that.  I don't want us to hurt each other when our expectations exceed reality, but this is something that you don't need to be embroiled in, and you should back off.  For that, I will not apologize."

"Frank, I'm scared," she whispered.

"I know, Loralei, but nothing will happen to you-"

Before he could complete his thought, she turned toward him and shook her head.  "No," she said shakily.  "You don't understand.  I'm not afraid for me.  I'm afraid for _you_.  I've not…not been sleeping so great.  Kara has practically moved in with me and probably hasn't seen _her_ husband like she wants.  I don't feel good about this case and I wish _you_ could back out.  I'm a stubborn bitch, I've never made that a secret, but I'm terrified.  Something is going to happen to you, I just know it."  He reached for her, but she backed away, escaping his grip again.  "Don't placate me, Agent Donovan," she said.  "Regardless of how many times you say 'don't be ridiculous,' _I_ will not bend on _this_.  Yes, I'm sticking my nose where it doesn't belong; yes, I should back off and let your team take care of it.  I just don't…don't want to lose you, and I can't stop thinking that I will."

For the third time, he reached for her and she allowed him to draw her into his embrace.  "I don't intend to placate you.  Your fears are legitimate, but unwarranted.  This will end soon enough and you'll see."  He gazed down into her eyes.  "Getting yourself hurt won't do anything other than drive me over the edge, and I don't want to go to that dark, dark place again.  This man is losing touch with reality.  Soon enough, he'll screw up, and this will be over.  There is nothing I can say to allay your fears, because you _are_ stubborn, but I wouldn't have you any other way.  Go home, Loralei.  Go home, love the kids for us both, and end this need for redemption.  You've put in enough time and you're overdue for a reprieve."

"I'm sorry, too, Frank, I just-"

He briefly placed two fingers over her lips.  "Ah, wait.  It's not necessary to apologize.  You're a stubborn bitch and I'm a stubborn bastard," he said with a smile.  "Perfect match."

She laughed a little.  "Yeah, right," she said.  "I'll go, right now, I promise."

He kissed her very briefly.  Any more than that, and he'd want her even more than he already did.  "I love you.  I miss you and the kids so badly I ache."  

"Let me go before _I _can't."  She turned away and opened the door, slipping out without looking back.                     


	8. Blown Cover

BLOWN COVER

There weren't many assignments Alex thought boring.  However, this one beat the band, oh yes it did.  She knew that Cody, Monica, and Donovan were monitoring the situation from their stations, but there really wasn't much to see or hear.  Mostly, she sat outside Reed's faculty house and kept watch.  Of course, her persona of a harried student fit her 'real' job perfectly.  She sat out at a small picnic table no more than five or six feet from faculty housing.  Both she and Jake had been versed on Dannon's physical and mental profile.  If he passed by her, there was no way in hell she could miss him.  She kept a sharp eye out, because according to the stuff Monica had dug up, he was a tricky little bastard.  Acting as if she was stretching and taking a break, Alex looked up, yawning and flexing her arms and legs in an almost exaggerated way.  The light was just beginning to fade and dusk was only a few moments away.  She wouldn't be able to keep up the façade much longer.  She would basically have to go into stealth mode.  Shit.  She wanted this assignment over and done with for God's sake.  As she stared off into the distance toward Reed's house, she saw something a bit odd.  An older woman strolled not far from her.  Alex wasn't sure what drew her attention to this woman, but something had struck her.  She shrugged it off.  _Damn, girl.  You are losing your mind_.

*  *  *

Dannon crept across the quad toward the construction zone.  He thought that both Reed and Föderativ lived close together.  Who should he pick first?  Choices choices.  Day by day, Dannon was growing more and more paranoid.  He sensed eyes watching him around every corner.  Surely _everyone_ knew what he had done.  Who was watching him?  The FBI?  CIA?  God help him.  He had work to do and needed to get it done.  Why couldn't they understand that?  In fact, he was so paranoid that when he went out at night [or in the day], he tended to dress differently to detract the eyes of those watching him.  Tonight, he was dressed up as a matronly woman.  No one would ever suspect him.    

*  *  *

Jack Reed was utterly exhausted.  He had spent a good portion of his day in the office grading horrendous term papers and examinations.  His field of expertise was statistics [his students often referring to it as 'sadistics'], and he didn't enjoy reading papers written by less than intelligent students.  He wasn't a man who tolerated mediocrity in the classroom.  He hadn't wanted to take the position at Mord.  He considered it a second-class school.  He had preferred teaching at a more prestigious college.  Sam Houston in Texas came immediately to mind.  However, they were as selective with instructors as they were students.  Maybe in a few years when his teeth were firmly sunk into the tough bitch known as experience, Sam Houston would come calling.  He absolutely could not wait for that day.  In the meantime, he would continue to work at Mord until his ship came in.  _What a cliché_.  Reed moved through his darkened living room and headed straight for the wet bar at the far end of the room.  He had a strong hankering for brandy.  If he could take a little nip, he might be able to relax.  He leaned down and opened the door to the cabinet.  He dug around inside until he grew impatient.  Each bottle he looked at was not his brandy.  Where the hell was his fucking brandy?  Sighing in aggravation, he grabbed the bottle nearest to his groping hand.  Wine.  It wasn't exactly brandy, but it would do.  He carried the bottle into the kitchen so he could dig out a glass.  He hated drinking wine without its being chilled, but he really had no choice.  He needed a drink, and he wasn't about to wait for it to be chilled.  After digging a wine glass out of the overhead cabinet, he poured the liquid into it with a shaky hand.  He brought the glass up to his lips [his hand still shaky] and he took a drink.  It immediately soothed him and he carried it back toward the living room.  He kicked back on the sofa with his wine and he propped his feet up on the table.  He wanted to nap, but if he slept now, he wouldn't sleep tonight.

Everything at Mord had been weird since the murders.  It didn't escape him that the killer seemed to be taking them out one by one.  He was also aware that he was in line with that.  Funny thing was, he didn't understand why a student had been murdered.  How was she tied to them?  Of course, he was worried, but then again, he was like other people close to his age.  He was invincible and free from his own mortality.  Nothing could ever happen to him.  It would happen to someone else.  He sipped his wine and a soft smile played on his lips.  Perhaps the killer could target Donovan next.  She could probably bore the guy to death before he could kill her, rambling as much as she did.  Damn could that woman talk.  Most of her students complained that she was very long-winded and wasn't apt to let them out of her classes early.  It wasn't that Donovan was a bad sort, but he couldn't stand people who yammered constantly.  He had also noticed that the new guy [_what was his name again_…] seemed a bit cold toward her as well.  However, there was an incident that made him wonder.  He had made some dumb ass comment about her, and the new guy had stiffened just the slightest bit.  Hmm…very interesting development.  Did the new guy have a thing for her maybe?  He shook his head.  No, couldn't be.  Donovan didn't seem the slightest bit interested in him, nor did he her.  _God, why do I care anyway_?  It wasn't his fucking problem.  He was tired of getting swamped and sidetracked because of these murders.  It wasn't fair and he didn't like the extra workload.  He hadn't signed on for this shit.  No way, man.  As soon as this semester was over, he thought he might bail out.  Teaching at a community college was better than this shit.  Releasing another deep sigh, he drained his glass and set it aside.  He closed his eyes and leaned his head against the soft cushions of his sofa.  Perhaps a fifteen-minute nap wouldn't hurt.

Dannon cursed under his breath.  Reed wasn't as stupid as the others.  He was a bit more paranoid [a pattern here…wonderful] than the rest, and he tended to lock his doors and windows.  Reed was quite the meticulous man, wasn't he?  Ah ha.  He wasn't _that _meticulous.  There was a back window open.  Lifting his skirt [and giggling while doing it], he raised the window and climbed through.  He was in a back bedroom and the living room was toward the front of the house.  Most of the faculty houses were identical and it didn't take long for him to find Reed, who was completely passed out on the couch.  He eyed a bottle of wine sitting on the counter.  It wasn't quite half empty.  He reached over and grabbed the cap [cheap fucker].  He screwed it back on the bottle and picked it up by the neck.  It had a bit of heft.  It wasn't as nice as the thin log, but it might just do.  He held his breath and hoped his luck would continue to hold out.  Stealthily, he slipped into the living room.  Thank God the floor was carpeted.  Reed hadn't moved a muscle.  It was funny, really.  Hadn't he taken out Fehr in much the same way?  What was it about sleeping people that made them so easy to kill?  Incredible.  He reared back and swung down.  The bottle connected solidly with the top of Reed's skull.  _THUNK_.  The bottle didn't break.  Reed's tastes were cheap, but the damn wine company made fucking strong bottles.  He swung again, and again, and again.

*  *  *

Donovan paced the small space in the living room repeatedly.  He felt as out of sorts as his wife, but couldn't put his finger on it.  He had heard very little from Jake and Alex to concern him.  He wasn't sure he liked that.  It wasn't that he wanted another person to die, but damn it, he was getting tired of trying to second-guess a psychotic ex-professor.  This man _could not_ be sophisticated enough to get past five fucking federal agents.  However, he was afraid that was exactly what was happening before his very eyes.  After his and Loralei's discussion in the library carrel, she had been avoiding Dannon.  Thus far, he had not approached her at school, but he was afraid it was his next step.  He somehow knew that Dannon was onto them and he was purposely avoiding the department.  Loralei knew Dannon, and it wouldn't take long for her to alert Donovan to his presence.  _Sneaky son-of-a-bitch_.  His patience was wearing thin.  He stopped pacing for the briefest of moments as he considered an idea.  What if they set up Dannon at the library?  Perhaps have Loralei go in and draw him out.  _Goddamn.  Bad idea.  What the hell are you thinking, Donovan_?  What good would it do?  Jesus.  It was the waiting, the separation, the endless nights worrying his ass off.  How many more nights would he and his family have to endure this?  _Vacation.  Oh yes.  Just the kids and us.  Getting out of here, getting away from this craziness, even if it's just one week._  He began pacing again, purposely avoiding the marred coffee table.  He had already banged his shin on the fucking thing a dozen times.  With each pass he made, he glanced at his work cell phone.  He wanted to call her, to ensure that she was okay.  Although Loralei had fought against the idea, he had insisted that she ask Kara to stay with her and the children at night.  Every once in a while, Farron dropped in on them, spending a night here and there.  He would worry despite anything, but at least she wasn't alone and defenseless.  Of course, Loralei had taken offense, but not much.  She didn't like the idea of staying alone, either.  Besides, he knew she had come to rely on their sister in-law for emotional support.  Alex couldn't be there for her for obvious reasons.  

He had barked about fifty commands in rapid succession to his team.  Cody and Monica were stationed off campus.  Alex was babysitting Reed and Jake had Zimmerman.  They each reported nothing.  It was silent and calm.  Shit.  Why was he barking at his team?  Was it necessarily their fault he was separated from his wife?  Goddamn goddamn.  Earlier, he had had another conversation with Shoemaker.  Actually, it was more of a bitch fest.  That was becoming quite the theme with the man lately, wasn't it?  He had again been tempted to tell Shoemaker to fuck off, but he bit the inside of his cheek.  He couldn't piss Shoemaker off just yet.  He didn't want to give the prick an excuse to pull the team out.  If they _were_ pulled out, he couldn't imagine what would happen to his sanity.  He simply wanted to find Dannon, yank him up, and beat the truth out of him.  He was literally losing his mind along with his patience.  Like a crazed animal, he stopped pacing again.  He stared at his cell phone.  His hand ached to touch it, as much as it ached to touch his wife.  _Fuck it_.  He had to hear her voice.  He stalked over to the end table and grabbed the phone.  Impatiently, he snapped it open and stabbed out his home phone number.  He gritted his teeth and groaned in frustration as he listened to the steady busy signal.  Who the hell was she talking to?  He needed desperately to hear her voice, but the phone was busy.  He allowed an angered growl to leave his throat as he snapped the phone closed and tossed it back on the end table.  In a way, the busy signal was more of a blessing.  He wasn't risking her life if he couldn't talk to her, but damn it, he _needed_ her, and he wasn't sure he could wait to see her in the morning.

*  *  *

Although extremely distracted by the thoughts rapidly growing inside her, Kara was concerned about Loralei.  She had grown distant, nearly sullen.  After she tended to the children, Loralei curled up on the couch with a book.  There was no way in hell she could read, not with her mind on her husband.  She morbidly wondered when his time would come up and if he could get away from the maniac.  She was tempted to reach over and call Donovan on his work phone, but he would frown on that.  She couldn't tolerate another snapping fight with her husband.  She didn't have the heart for it.  They hadn't said much to each other since their brief argument in the carrel.  It was too risky.  She kept a disgusted stance at work from "Mittel" and it was extremely difficult.  She glanced up and over at the phone.  She had no desire to speak to anyone tonight.  She sat up only long enough to knock the phone off the hook.  She had no idea that Donovan would try to call her.  He wouldn't break cover, wouldn't put her at an unnecessarily risk.  

Kara was a dear, and Loralei genuinely loved her new sister in-law, but she couldn't help but feel just a bit of irritation at her presence.  She understood why Donovan insisted on her having a bodyguard of sorts, but when she was in a mood as she was tonight, it was best to back off and let her stew.  However, she couldn't quite send Kara away, either.  She also needed the company, the comfort.  She had yet to shake her thoughts.  Every day, she expected to hear that Donovan had been victimized.  It didn't matter to her that he was a federal agent with a team to back him up.  How long would it take to end his life?  Her husband was a fighter, and he'd kick serious ass before giving up, but he wasn't Superman.  He was mortal.  Kara made a small noise in her throat, bringing Loralei out of her reverie.  She smiled up at her sister in-law.  Bless her heart.  She had made tea.  There was little else she could do for Loralei other than drag her husband home, and she couldn't quite do that.  Loralei took the cup from Kara's hand and nodded her way.  She wasn't sure she could even vocalize.

"Why don't you take that upstairs," Kara suggested, "You're exhausted.  Don't worry about the babies.  I can handle them both."

Loralei smiled a little.  "I'd feel as guilty as hell, Kara.  I'm warning you, those children have strong lungs."  With that said, she burst into tears.

Kara sighed sympathetically and took the cup out of Loralei's hand, setting it aside.  She sat beside her sister in-law and put a comforting arm around her shoulders.  "I can't imagine what's going through your mind right now, and I wish I could do something more.  I feel a bit ineffectual right now."

Loralei shook her head.  "No, don't.  You're doing more than you'll ever know.  I miss him, Kara, and I just know something is going to happen to him.  I've told him before, but I think this shit follows us, that maybe I'm his jinx or something."

"Loralei, don't be ridiculous.  You're not his jinx.  He loves you very much," Kara said.

She laughed a little, although it was bitter and hurtful.  "Unlucky bastard," she said.  "I know he does, but this separation is driving me crazy.  I see him every damn day, but I can't touch him, can't kiss him, can't let him see his children for God's sake.  He's within reach, but a fucking continent away."  She buried her face in her hands.  "I'm a mess, Kara.  I'm sorry for doing this to you.  I'm sure you have your own problems to deal with, don't you?"

_Just a little one_.  "It's okay, Loralei.  We're in this family together now.  I'm here for you as long as you need me."

"Thank you," she said, her voice muffled through her hands.  She moved her hands away from her face and ran them through her hair.  "I think I will go to bed.  I'm wrecked."

Loralei stood up and plodded toward the stairs.  Tiredly, she climbed them one by one until she was at the top.  She checked in on each child, noting that both were asleep.  Tristan was so tiny that he didn't notice Donovan's absence as much as Rachel.  Her daughter asked for her daddy every night, and she simply couldn't understand why he wouldn't come to her.  It tore her apart each time her daughter asked, was denied, and then cried herself to sleep.  Loralei entered the bedroom and stripped out of her clothing, not bothering with a shower tonight.  She lacked the energy anyway.  She tossed a tee shirt over her head and dropped down on Donovan's side of the bed.  She curled herself around his pillow and cradled it close to her body.  It was sappy and maybe a little crazy, but she had actually sprinkled a few drops of his aftershave onto the pillow so his smell could be there, even if he couldn't.  

*  *  *

After cleaning himself up a bit, Dannon slathered a goodish amount of _Ben-Gay_ on his arm.  By morning, he probably wouldn't be able to lift it past shoulder level.  He glanced at his wall clock.  He still had a few hours before the public library closed.  Perhaps Donovan would show up.  Dannon dry swallowed four aspirin and moved on out the door.  Once at the library, he frowned when he didn't see Donovan awaiting him.  Damn it.  Where was she?  He actually missed the bitch.  Loralei Donovan.  What was her story?  If she were a former FBI agent, wouldn't there be something about her in old papers?  Hadn't Fehr said she worked on a very well known case?  Hmm.  The microfiche machines were on the third floor.  Perhaps he could delve into them and get some more information about her.  Picking up his step a bit, he went downstairs and luckily found a vacant machine.  He had no idea how long it would take to find what he needed to know.  

Dannon had quite a pile of microfiche files set out beside him.  His head had begun to ache.  He had been staring at the dingy screen far too many hours and found nothing.  He was just about to pack it up and go home until a blurb stopped him.  As much as Kelly Bartlet before him, Dannon's eyes fell on the society pages.  He had no idea he would find his answer in the damned sucky ass society pages.  What kind of dumb luck was that?  He was looking at a small picture of Loralei and Frank Donovan.  In fact, it was Loralei's own mother whom had bought space for the wedding announcement.  He stared at the picture for a long time.  _My my my_.  If he had put a pair of glasses on the man, he would be staring right at Mittel Föderativ.  Ah, his paranoia hadn't been for naught, now had it?  Was this Donovan FBI like his wife?  He recalled the day he had seen "Dean Fehr" in Loralei's office, but it hadn't been Fehr at all.  Instead, it had been her damn husband.  He was so angry that he wanted to search out Loralei and put her lights out.  However, he wasn't physically able right now.  Another idea sprang up in his mind.  Perhaps there was another way.  He immediately put Zimmerman at the bottom of his list.  He had devised a way to get back at both Dean Fehr and this Frank Donovan.  He shut down the machine and left the microfiche files where they lay.  He had to go home and get some rest.  He had to be at top form if he expected to do his best.    


	9. Upset

UPSET

Loralei couldn't sleep, so she wound up going to work early the next morning.  She sighed a little when she noticed the light on in Donovan's office.  He had apparently not slept any better than her.  Dare she go to him?  She needed him more than she had ever needed any man.  It wasn't just a lust thing.  It was sappy [that word again], but he literally completed her, that was where her need came from.  He would yell at her, she was certain, but it was something she could endure.  _Fuck it_.  She had to touch him, absolutely _had_ to do it.  She dropped her purse and keys onto the top of her desk and then stepped out into the hall.  The heels of her shoes made a hollow clocking noise as she neared his door.  Before touching it, she listened carefully for signs of life.  It was possible that he wasn't there, that he had simply left the lights on overnight.  She reached out and grasped the doorknob.  When she pulled open the door, it made an incredible noise in the empty hallway, echoing loudly.  She was certain everyone in the building could hear it.  As the door came open wider, her eyes met Donovan's.  She was steeling herself against his anger, but it wasn't painted on his face.  Surprised, she moved further into the room, just enough so that she could close the door behind her.  He had yet to get into his "Mittel" mask.  She noticed the glasses with the false lenses resting at the far corner of the desk.  He would avoid them as long as possible.  It was one thing he hated most about the getup.  The other was that the whole operation was keeping him from his family.  He stared up at her for so long a time, she nearly drowned in his eyes.  It was suffocating, but also so very thrilling.  There were few times they could share moments like this, at least in this setting.  She still waited to hear his angered words, but they never came.  Without a word or a sound, he stood and walked around his desk, approaching her.  He took her into his arms and drew her up against him.  For a moment, all he wanted to do was hold her, inhale her scent, and feel her warm body against his.  God he missed her, missed everything about her.  He didn't want to release her for one moment, and he held tightly onto her body, content to have her crushed against him.  He wanted to speak to her, to kiss her, to tell her how much he loved her, but he couldn't vocalize.  It didn't matter; he was transmitting every thought, every emotion through his tight embrace.

After holding her so long that her breathing was labored, he drew back and didn't hesitate to cover her mouth with his.  No time to breathe.  No time to take a breath.  He wanted to kiss her while he had the chance.  He might not receive another for a long time to come.  Their lips parted for a moment.  This was a little crazy.  She needed to breathe.  He pressed his forehead against hers and both of them took deep, heavy breaths.  Recovery time was brief as he captured her lips again, hers immediately parting against his to allow his tongue entrance, to make way for her own inside his mouth.  She felt one of his hands moving to the back of her head, cupping it, mussing her perfectly coiffed hair [_who gives a fuck_].  Her hands worked their way inside his jacket and encircled his waist.  It didn't take long for them to slide down to his buttocks.  She gave them a hard, hearty squeeze, and she pressed her lower body against his.  Her leg came up around him, and his free hand supported her the best it could.  The kiss went on long enough for them to break for air a second time.  Moaning a little, she didn't want to stop, didn't want to break the only connection they had had for weeks.  What was happening to them was a cruel twist of fate, and she hated it, utterly hated it.  He was gazing down into her eyes hungrily, wanting more, _needing_ more.  At the same time, Loralei was tempted to angrily shove him away.  These brief, heated encounters weren't enough.  If she couldn't have him all the time, she didn't want him at all.  Yet, her thoughts were irrational.  She would take what she could get, even if it was an animalistic quickie.  He was waiting for her to decide if she wanted him or if she didn't want to take the risk.  His answer was written clearly in his eyes and body.  He wanted her, wanted every inch of her, but he wasn't sure what she wanted at that moment.  It was one of a few times he could not read her.  There were mixed emotions rushing through her.  It was more than obvious to him.

"Lora-"

He had barely gotten the first two syllables of her name out of his mouth before she cut him off with two fingers pressed against his lips.  She didn't want him to speak, to ask her what she wanted, and she knew he was about to do that very thing.  He should never have to ask her a question like that.  He should never have to ask her _anything_.  As she gazed up at him, as she felt his heartbeat beneath her hand, a wave of terror struck her suddenly, making her head spin with its violence.  The wave seemed to say:  _This is your last day with him_, _make it last_.  She couldn't take the thoughts rushing through her mind, she wanted to drive them out, drive them away.  Donovan watched, perplexed, as she backed away.  Never in a million years did he think she would deny him so blatantly.  He was a little hurt and a bit angry, but not surprised.  Instead of backing out of the office, she turned away and engaged the lock on the door.  She went into his arms again, just holding onto him, and she felt the first of many tears to come fall out of her eyes.  His strong arms came up around her and held her just as tightly as he had earlier.  He didn't quite understand the tears.  It wasn't from missing him, it was different.  It was sad and heart wrenching, as if she were crying about a horrendous loss.  He had witnessed such crying spells before, the worst after her miscarriage two years ago.  However, he realized that this was worse, much worse, and he simply didn't understand.  

Donovan drew away from her, holding her by her upper arms.  He gazed down at her again, consuming her, reading her soul.  "You will talk to me," he said in a soft, but demanding tone.  "You will, Loralei."

"I will," she promised through her tears.  "I will talk to you."  She went into his arms again.  "But later," she whispered as she placed a gentle kiss on his mouth.  "Later, okay," she begged as her lips tripped over his left cheek.  "Please?"

He had no intention of allowing her to wait until 'later.'  It wasn't what they did, not now, not ever.  His need to touch her, to make love to her could wait.  He wanted to know what was going on inside her head, and he wouldn't be content until he picked it clean.  He was very close to reminding her of their vow, one they had carried to the wedding, to speak, not hide.  "We can wait until later," he said.  "We have time."  Those words [also spoken to his dying lover so very long ago] would come back to haunt him time and time again.

Donovan backed her up against the door, his hands propped on each side of her head.  He kissed her again, hard, almost brutally.  He didn't often lose control like that, but today, he couldn't help it.  He hadn't hurt her, because she responded to him, allowing him to devour her.  One hand came down and yanked her pullover blouse free of her slacks.  He broke the kiss as his hands shoved the blouse up past her breasts.  He used the same carnal movements and bunched up her bra with her blouse.  One of her hands came up to her forehead as if she were checking for fever.  Her other plunged into his hair as his lips and tongue assaulted each nipple with passionate relish.  The hand planted firmly on her forehead came up to her hair as his mouth moved downward.  His body followed, and before long, he was almost kneeling before her.  He kissed her lower abdomen, just inches above the line of her slacks, drawing her skin between his lips as if he were trying to mark her.  He hadn't done that to her before.  It felt weird, but incredibly sexy.  He went to work on the zipper and snap of her slacks, drawing them down past her hips, down her legs, stopping at the top of her shoes.  Balancing her hand on his shoulder for support, she raised each leg, working them out of the slacks.  Her feet were still adorned in her strappy fall sandals, but he didn't bother removing them.  She sighed a little and held onto him for dear life as he lifted one leg, which went instinctively over his shoulder.  Her panties, a nice sexy little black thong, were the only barrier separating him from her flesh.  Yet, the garment wasn't really a barrier at all, now was it?  He didn't intend to go very far with this, not with his patience level at negative fifteen right now.  He moved them aside very briefly to allow his tongue to taste her only for a moment.  One hand plunged into his hair again as she bit down a little on the palm of the other.  

She had wanted to cry out, but it wouldn't be such a great idea.  Her leg came down as his body moved upward.  Their lips joined again and her hand moved down.  She ran her finger along him, outside his jeans, and he moaned, the sound muffled by their kiss.  He was so hard, the ache so bad that he thought he might burst before he was even inside her.  Her hands worked frantically to release the snap and zipper of his jeans.  With the denim shoved slightly past his hips, all of him, every single inch was exposed to her.  She ran her tongue along her lips, wanting to get her mouth on him, but something about the intense gaze of his dark eyes stopped her short.  No.  He wouldn't allow that, not today.  There was one place he longed to be inside, and it wasn't her mouth.  Grasping her delicate silk thong, he dragged the garment down and off her body.  He could have simply shoved it aside again, but he wanted no hindrances.  Her leg went around his waist, his arm came up and his hand grasped her buttocks.  Lifting her slightly, he plunged into her heated, moist warmth.  He again experienced the same sensation he felt the first time he made love to her.  It didn't take either of them long to meet release.  He heard a whimpering cry escape Loralei, the noise almost sounding like a soft hiccough.  Simultaneously, he felt the strong contractions inside her, gripping and releasing him, pulling him deeper inside her.  Her fingernails dug into his buttocks, but he hardly noticed the stinging pain.  His breath had begun to come in sharp, hissing gasps.  He was close…very close.  All it took to send him over was her teeth nipping at his bottom lip.  Oh God.  He wanted to draw away, to make this last as long as he could, but she wouldn't let him.  One hand had come up to plunge into his hair, holding him in place.  She nipped his bottom lip with her teeth, running her tongue over it, almost sucking it as if it were a substitute for…

He couldn't complete the thought as he stilled and leaned his head back just a little as his body worked through its shuddering climax.  Keeping a steady hold on her, he buried his face against the side of her neck, his lips and nose seeking the silky shelter of her hair.  He vaguely wondered if he had ever felt such an intense feeling of elation and euphoria.  He felt a slight shift of her body, and he reinforced his grip on her, moaning an insistent 'no.'  He didn't want her to move, not just yet, not until he had his fill, not until she had taken in every ounce of love he had to give her.

*  *  *

A little while later, Loralei sat in her office reviewing a lecture before class.  She was still distracted, still inherently sad.  She had heard Donovan leaving his office just a few moments ago, and she literally longed to follow him.  Yet, she kept back, she stayed out of it, as she had promised her husband.  She became engrossed in her lecture notes and reread them.  How many damn times did she think she needed to go over them before class?  Damn it.  She looked up when she heard a polite knock at her door.  Thinking it might be Donovan, she came from behind her desk and approached.  Before she had the chance to open the door, it came flying back toward her, missing her face by mere inches.  She ducked away, but not before it dug into her side, pinching her breast.  Grimacing in unexpected pain, she whipped around the door and faced a grinning Andy Dannon.  More irritated than afraid, she quickly whirled around to find some type of weapon, laying her hands on the first thing she found.  She swung out with a book, successfully whopping Dannon on the side of his arm.  Undeterred [she hadn't hit his sore arm at least], he reached for, grabbing her hair and jerking backward.  He pinned her against her desk, its sharp edge biting into her abdomen.  Dannon slammed the door, not giving one ripe fuck if the noise could be heard.

"I know who you are," he whispered viciously, his stinking breath fanning against the side of her face.  "You'd better believe that, baby.  I know who Mittel is, too.  He's Frank Donovan, isn't he?  Your husband?  A federal agent?  What if I told you I just killed him as he strolled down the hall?  It was relatively easy; he didn't even see what hit him.  It was the easiest elimination ever."

Her heart ached to cry out that he was a liar, but she wouldn't give Dannon the satisfaction of knowing Donovan's true identity.  In the back of her mind, she believed him, believed he had ambushed her husband.  "Let me go, you twisted psycho," she demanded through clenched teeth.

"Not just yet.  You're coming with me.  If you don't comply, I have a semi-automatic handgun, and I won't hesitate to start shooting.  You wouldn't want that to happen, now would you?"

*  *  *

"_What the hell do you mean_," Donovan shouted angrily, his ire directed toward both Jake _and_ Alex.  It was irrational and misdirected, but he thought his brain might explode.  "_How the fuck did he slip past you_?"  No one could answer him, he was simply too enraged, in the midst of a mind-bending temper tantrum.  He went over to the kitchen table in his small cursed faculty house and planted his hands firmly onto the surface of it.  Breathing deeply, he slowly gained control of his temper.  Just who was he angry with?  Alex, Jake, or himself?  Jack Reed was dead, his body was found earlier that morning.  He had been bludgeoned too death with a wine bottle.  His face was so bloody that he was nearly unrecognizable.  He shook his head.  "I'm sorry," he said.  He was about to say something more, but his work cell phone twittered.  At first, he was tempted to ignore it, but he reached for it.  Snapping it open, he glanced at the screen.  Loralei?  "Loralei?"

"Not quite, happy hubby," a man's voice said amusedly.  "I think you know who you're speaking to, Dean Fehr."  [_Dean Fehr_, Donovan interjected inside his mind.]

"Andy Dannon," he forced out through tightly gritted teeth.  He had Loralei's phone, and that meant he had Loralei.  "If you harm one hair on her head, I will take immense pleasure in tearing you apart limb by limb, piece by piece."

"How do you know I haven't done it already?  Look, Fehr, your wife stole my job, and I just want another chance to prove myself.  I'm giving you that chance to redeem yourself.  Listen very carefully, because I won't repeat myself.  Come out to the construction zone in thirty minutes.  I'll have your wife on top of the tallest gutted skeletal building.  It's the only one with a covered floor.  You'll see it easily enough.  Come out here and face me.  I'll make sure your wife is safe and sound.  All I want is my job back, nothing more."

Donovan took all the information in frantically, remembering every detail, every word and nuance.  Although his wife was the hostage, he didn't throw away his professionalism.  It was the only thing keeping him sane.  "Give me proof she's alive.  Until I hear her voice, I will not play your game."  He heard rustling noises in the background and Dannon's muffled command.  He barely heard Loralei spitting out _let me go_.  He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth again.  "_Enough_," he shouted.  "Leave her alone.  I'll meet you."

*  *  *

Dannon prodded Loralei along.  She was completely intimidated by heights, and her heart beat hard and frantically in her chest.  The beams supporting the skeleton that would become a building didn't seem strong enough to hold them.  Dear God.  What if they fell?  If she stopped for one second, he pushed her, growling "move it" under his breath.  Once they reached the top of the precipice, Loralei felt dizzy, and her head began to spin.  How high were they?  It didn't seem to be very far up, but it didn't matter to her.  It could have been one story or fifty.  Although she was a bit far away from the edge, it seemed as if the top of the building shrunk minute by minute.  She was certain that she would fall and hit the soggy ground below.  The thought horrified her.  Jesus.  She wanted to wrench her arm out of his grasp and get away, but the feeling of vertigo didn't allow it.  She was losing time.  How much time had passed?  Had it been thirty minutes?  An hour?  A month?  She knew Dannon had lied about having a weapon, but it still wouldn't prevent him from tossing her over the side.

"I'm here, Dannon.  Release her," Donovan's voice suddenly demanded from behind.  

He turned sharply, and a gasp emitted from Loralei.  The sun had obscured her vision, and she couldn't see her husband's face very plainly.  She made out the silhouettes of Jake and Alex flanking Donovan from behind.  She wanted to shade her eyes, but Dannon wasn't letting her move.  The grip on her arm tightened and she held her breath, waiting for the moment that the earth would fall away from her feet.  Loralei's vision was blocked, but Donovan's was not.  He fixed his eyes on her face for an intense moment, but soon redirected his attention on Dannon.  They were incredibly close to the edge of the precipice, and it wouldn't take many steps for them both to plunge down to the ground below.  Would the fall kill?  Damn it.  He wanted to move forward, but he dared not.  The slightest step he took would only force Dannon to move an inch closer to the edge.

"She stole nothing from you," Donovan said calmly.  "It's not her fault you were fired.  It wasn't the fault of Reed, Simons, or Combs."  If Dannon thought he was Fehr, he would play along.  It might help save Loralei's life.  "If you must blame anyone, blame me.  Let her go and we'll settle this man to man."

Donovan's heart nearly stopped as Dannon dragged Loralei closer to the edge.  One more step, and they'd go over.  He found himself praying that the support beams could withstand their combined weight.  Dannon's hand tensed and relaxed, relaxed and tensed on Loralei's arm.  The pressure was incredible.  She was horridly aware that the heel of her foot was nearly touching the edge.  If she breathed wrong, down she'd go.  After a tense moment, she felt her body being tossed to the side.  She didn't scream or cry out, she held her breath and said a silent goodbye to her husband and children.

Donovan heard a gasp leaving him as he watched Dannon shoving Loralei's body away from his.  His only conscious thought was to prevent her from hitting the ground.  Without a thought to anything else, he rushed forward.  By the time he faced Andy Dannon, he realized that Loralei had fallen safely away from the edge.  It was a realization that came too late.  Donovan's forward momentum, along with a vicious kick from Dannon, sent him over the edge.  He heard very little, but Loralei's horrified scream broke the complete stillness of the otherwise beautiful morning.  He grabbed a support beam, which was the closest thing to him, and he held on for dear life.  His grip was slipping and the beam was creaking.  Above him, he heard several muffled thuds and a string of curses leaving his agents.  A moment later, Loralei leaned over the edge of the precipice, her body likely laying flat upon it.

"Baby, don't let go," she cried.  "Give me your hand," she demanded.

He gazed up into her helpless green eyes.  What was she thinking?  She wasn't superhuman.  "Loralei, you can't…"

"Fuck what I _can't_," she shouted.  "_Give me your fucking hand_."

Grunting with the effort, he reached up with his free hand, never losing contact with the support beam.  It creaked alarmingly again, and he took in a deep breath.  She took hold of his arm with both hands, her grip amazingly strong.  No matter how strong she was, he knew she wasn't strong enough to drag his ass back over.  If she tried, she would topple over the edge with him.  He would not let her do that.  Somebody had to be there for the children.  He gazed up into her eyes and held on for as long as he could.  He transmitted every thought, every ounce of love in that gaze, and he saw that she understood.  Her gaze was sad and horrified, a gut-wrenching mix of emotions that had the ability to drive a sane man stark raving mad.  She understood, she had always understood.  He could feel her body slipping forward, straining.  Clenching his jaw and gritting his teeth together, he wrenched his wrist out of her hands and took hold of the support beam.  As the beam gave way, the last thing he heard was Loralei's anguished wail.  _FFFFFRAAAAAAAANNNNNNNNKKKKKKK!  NOOOOOOOOOOO!_      


	10. Paralysis

PARALYSIS

The moment Loralei saw Donovan's body plunging downward, she attempted to throw herself right over the edge after him.  A pair of strong hands gripped her waist, digging into her sensitive flesh, and she felt her body being dragged back.  She fought at the hands holding her.  They felt like Jake's, she wasn't sure, because she couldn't see him just yet.  He had to let her go, she had to go after her husband.  Crazily, she balled up her fists and began to beat at his hands.  His grip never wavered.  In fact, it tightened.  There was a chance, however remote, that Donovan was still alive, and if he survived and Loralei didn't, he didn't want to face the rogue part of him again.  He pulled her back and all the while, Alex struggled with Dannon, finally subduing the murdering fucker.  Once Loralei was safely away from the ledge, she kicked at Jake, her heel connecting with the side of his jaw.  Much later, she'd cringe at the sight of his bruised face, but right now, she wasn't thinking clearly.  She scrambled up to her feet and made her way down the side of the building.  When Dannon had first dragged her over here, she had been consciously aware of the height and scared shitless.  This time, she didn't blink twice.  She didn't hear Jake telling Alex to take care of Dannon so he could go after her.  She didn't look up, didn't have a clue that he was descending the building just above her.  She ignored the creaks and groans of the shoddy platform ladder.  Her mind was on one thing and one thing only.  The instant her feet hit the ground, her fucking heels became mired in the soupy ground.  She cried out in disgust and anger, tearing the sandals from her feet.  The moment they were off, she slogged through the mud, trying desperately to estimate where his body had landed.  She ripped through the muck, determined to find him, refusing to believe he hadn't survived.  She tore around the corner and finally saw him laid out on his side, not moving.  No.  Oh hell no.  She wouldn't accept it, wouldn't believe it, not for a moment.  She began to run toward him, falling in the mud.  It seemed to be working against her, keeping her away, as if it knew a truth she did not.    

It had taken no more than three minutes to make her journey, but it seemed like a lifetime.  The closer she drew near him, the further he drifted.  From behind, she could hear the distinct sucking noises made by Jake's feet as he caught up to her.  She had been well on her way to approaching his unmoving body when Jake caught her from behind.  She felt the same vicious anger.  How dare he hold her back?  Didn't he understand?  It never dawned on her that the worse thing she could do was move him.  Nothing made sense anymore.  Nothing would ever make sense again.  She could hear Jake's husky voice drifting into her ear, demanding that she stop, that she calm down.  He lay no more than three feet away from her, but she couldn't touch him, couldn't discover if he were alive or dead.  The one thought that would never leave her mind was the fact that he wasn't moving, didn't appear to be breathing.  God what would she do without him?  What would the kids do?  No.  Oh God no.  

Mired by the mud, mired by her grief, she struggled against the arm holding her so tightly.  If he couldn't move and if she couldn't touch, her only other alternative was her voice.  "Frank?"  The first time she uttered his name, it came out as an inaudible squeak.  Frustrated, she beat at Jake's hands again.  If she could get just enough oxygen in her lungs, her voice would carry over.  "Frank," she cried out.  "_FRANK!_"  Nothing.  No movement, absolutely none.  No acknowledgement from him, period.  No.  Oh God no.  She wouldn't accept it, wouldn't let this insanity go on.  He was alive, damn it, and he would hear her.  "_FRANK_," she shrieked again, to no avail.  Wherever he was, he could not hear her, could not respond in kind.  With a tiny hint of finality, with one last stubborn hold on hope, she struggled against Jake again and squeaked out one last, "Frank" before slipping out of his arms and sinking to the mud on her hands and knees.  

Jake took hold of her again and dragged her a few steps away.  In the horror of the situation, he had completely forgotten his fucking earpiece.  With one hand, he fixed it over his ear.  "Get an ambulance.  Donovan's down and unresponsive."

_Donovan's down and unresponsive_.  The words echoed in Loralei's head.  Down and unresponsive.  Dead.  Gone.  Forever.  Oh no.  Oh God no.  She became numb and disconnected from her body, as if she were watching the whole thing on a movie screen.  She felt Jake's hands pulling her back, and from a distance, she heard the warbling of an ambulance siren.  During the entire process, she kept her eyes glued to Donovan's body, watching, waiting.  If he made one move, she was damn determined to see it.  However, he didn't.  Not once.  Down and unresponsive.  Down and unresponsive.  Down…and…unresponsive.  Just once, she would like another chance to break free of Jake's stubborn hold.  Just once.

She felt her body turning just the slightest bit as Jake shifted to look behind him.  Alex was approaching slowly, picking her way through the mud.  She gave him a curt nod, enough to let him know that the police, summoned by Cody and Monica, had secured Dannon.  Alex exchanged a sad and questioning look toward Jake, and he shook his head, the movement not perceptible to Loralei.  He had no idea how bad it was, or even if the boss were still alive.  She moved past Jake and Loralei, longing to offer some kind of comfort to her friend, but she had another matter to take care of first.  In her state, Loralei hardly noticed Alex as she slipped by them and approached Donovan's prone body.  She kneeled before him and could barely see his face.  His cheek rested against the soggy ground and his eyes were closed.  She wouldn't touch him, but she visually examined him for signs of life.  From what she could see, he had apparently fallen straight down on his back, and then bounced over to his side.  There was a thin trickle of blood edging its way down the back of his neck where he had taken a bad crack to the skull.  Dear Jesus.  She was looking at a dead man.  She glanced up at Jake.  He was watching her expectantly.  Being extremely guarded and careful, she shook her head.  She didn't know.  It didn't look good.  Jake sighed just the slightest, and Loralei's ears picked up the soft noise.  The situation became real again.  She looked up, saw Alex kneeled before Donovan, saw the expression on her face, and she knew.

"No," she cried.  "_No_."

Jake left Alex with Donovan, and he began the impossible task of leading Loralei away.  Already fragile, if she saw them zipping up her husband into a body bag, he knew she wouldn't make it through the night.  She resisted and tried to hold back, but he insisted.  If necessary, he wouldn't hesitate to throw her over his shoulder and carry her out.  There was no way he wanted her to see his broken body carted away.  Actually, there was no way _he_ wanted to see Donovan's body carted away.  It was a huge pill to swallow, one that tasted bitter and viciously sour.  He moved her along, prodding her forward as much as Dannon had prodded her earlier.  Foot by foot, she was drawing further away from her husband, further away from her last glance at him.  She would never forget the look in his eyes as he jerked his wrist out of her hands.  _I'm doing this for you, for the kids_.  He had paid the ultimate price for his over protectiveness.  Moving onward and upward.  Push.  Shove.  Step up.  Step down.  Sit.  Those were the only commands she could follow right away.  She watched as the ambulance zipped past her, screaming loudly, as loudly as she had screamed when he let go of her.  She looked around her and noticed that Jake had seated her inside his gigantic SUV, well protected from the crowds gathering on the streets.  She began to shiver and didn't immediately know if it was from the shock or the cold mud.  Her mind drifted here, there, everywhere.

*  *  *

_Loralei Kadin found herself as nervous as shit.  It had taken nearly nine months to plan this wedding, and she had had scads of assistance from her mother.  However, Geneva Kadin was worrisome at times.  It didn't matter.  Before the ceremony began, she gazed at her reflection in the mirror.  In the background, she could hear her mother harping at her because she had chosen a soft shade of peach rather than go for white.  There was no way in hell she could pull off getting married in white, especially when her intended was Frank Donovan.  Wouldn't he simply **love** that?  She could almost hear his voice:  **White, Loralei?  White?  Who's going to buy that**?  She loved him so very deeply, even if he was a turd.  She didn't think she looked all that bad, but her palms were sweating like crazy.  If the ceremony didn't start soon, she might lose her mind.  Absently, she smoothed her dress, running her hands down the sideswell of her breasts, to her waist, and settled them down onto her abdomen.  Her hands lingered there for the slightest of moments.  Just yesterday, she had discovered she was pregnant, but she had kept fairly close mouthed about it.  She would spring it to him soon, because it wasn't something she could hide forever._

_She jumped when her mother touched her shoulder.  God.  Had Geneva seen what she had been doing?  A tad on the conservative side, if her mother found out she was pregnant before she had a wedding ring on her finger, she'd have a brain embolism and die right then and there.  It was time to go out, to face the music [so to speak].  Actually, she was pretty damn anxious.  She wasn't into traditional type stuff, but she had given over to her mother.  Loralei was her only child and she wanted to throw a real shindig.  She loved her mother and relented only because of that.  Donovan had voiced no opinion either way, he would accept whatever she wanted, as long as they married.  It was the only thing he cared about.  He was a good man, a strong one, and every night, she thanked the higher powers for bringing him into her life as she snuggled against him._

_Loralei didn't remember much about her walk down the aisle.  She was completely too nervous.  A couple of times, she thought she might pitch right over and faint.  The inside of the church was hotter than hell and the fancy wedding dress was making her itch something fierce.  She couldn't wait to get out of it and into some regular clothing.  **Whatever you do, don't trip.  It wouldn't be good if the bride fell on her ass during her walk down the aisle**.  Loralei spotted Donovan at the far end of the aisle, facing some goofy looking guy holding a bible.  **That's a priest, you idiot.  Remember, your mother is very religious.  Very strict.  Now keep moving.**  He looked utterly stunning in his black tux.  She wondered if it was the same one he wore to that mock charity ball.  It didn't matter.  Nothing mattered._

_Once she made it to his side, he took her hand and kissed it, whispering 'I love you' against her flesh.  Uh God.  She felt tears forming in her eyes.  Was she touched or attacked by hormones or both?  She didn't return the sentiment, she couldn't.  If she opened her mouth to speak, she was afraid she'd blubber all over the place.  They went through the traditional and dated ceremony, with the standard lines, but then Donovan surprised her by saying something in addition.  He slipped a gold band on her finger and before he uttered the usual 'with this ring, I thee wed,' he stated in a plain and loving voice:  I will allow you inside my heart freely, without reservation…I will never hesitate to say what needs to be said.'  Tricky, however, so very apt, so very appropriate for them.  When it was her turn, she spoke the same words, vowing the same sentiment throughout their lives together.  It was a promise made before hundreds of people, before God, before the whole world.  It was a promise that was not meant to be broken.  Not now.  Not ever again.  After that, he kissed her deeply, not bothering to wait for the pronouncement.  Hell, they didn't need it.  They were making their own rules as they went along.  They had held their vows sacred.  Neither of them were exactly religious types, but their vows were solid to them.  Promises made were kept._

_When the ceremony ended and the reception began, Loralei wasted no time getting out of the binding wedding gown.  She slipped into a simple but elegant dress and twisted her hair into an impatiently loose bun at the back of her head.  She stepped out to the party and smiled a little.  She noticed that her new husband had shed the tuxedo jacket and loosened the starched shirt.  But that wasn't what made her smile.  Donovan had his sister's daughter hanging precariously against his hip.  He had a firm grip on the little girl, but she was holding onto him for dear life.  **He will be a wonderful father**.  Wonderful father…wonderful husband…gone…gone…GONE_.

*  *  *

Loralei jerked herself awake.  She hadn't even realized she'd been sleeping.  She shivered in the cold interior of the SUV.  She felt as if she had been out for hours upon hours.  However, when she looked at the clock on the dashboard, she realized that she hadn't been out very long at all.  She reached for the door handle, determined to go back out where her husband lay, but before she progressed two inches, she noticed that Jake was standing sentry outside the passenger side door.  She looked up suddenly as she heard the wailing siren of the ambulance.  She wanted to go with him, to be with him, but she was trapped inside this shitty SUV.  Damn it.  She smacked her hand against the window fruitlessly.  She buried her face inside her mud-covered hands.  Loud, braying sobs wracked her body, swelling inside her, only to be ejected again and again.  It couldn't be true.  He couldn't be gone.  He couldn't… 

Jake slid inside the SUV just moments after the ambulance tore down the highway.  He listened as Loralei continued to cry and utter 'no' constantly.  She was pitifully covered in mud and completely unaware of her person.  Taking a deep breath, expecting another fight, his hand reached out and grasped her shoulder.  He felt her body tense ever so slightly, and he prepared for a fight.  His jaw was already starting to darken from the kick he had sustained.  He wanted to hold her, to comfort her, but she refused to move.  She closed herself off for a bit to be completely alone with her pain.  Once she had dealt with the harsh reality, she would let someone inside.  He shook his head incredulously.  Jesus.  She was just like Donovan.

"Where…where are they taking him," she asked suddenly, finally able to speak through her tears.  "Where…is…is he going?"

"I'm not sure," he said.

She looked at him, fixing him with an angered, pissed off gaze.  "Find out," she said.  "Find out and take me there.  _Now_."

*  *  *

Alex sat back in a daze and watched as the paramedics worked frantically on Donovan.  She wasn't sure that anything they did would do him any good.  He had shown no signs of life since being loaded into the ambulance.  His condition wasn't all that great, and there was a possibility of a spinal cord injury of some sort.  They had placed him on one of those boards to immobilize his body.  She had yet to see him take a breath on his own, and the paramedics were bagging him.  She wondered if this was what Donovan saw when Loralei was in the same position.  Dear God.  It was almost the same situation in reverse order.  She listened to the barked commands and the injuries they had discovered:  concussion, broken ribs, sprained wrist, spinal cord stress, and on and on.  Jesus.  If he would just open his damn eyes so she could have something to tell his wife.  If he wasn't dead already, she didn't think he'd make it to the hospital.  

*  *  *

After a few phone calls, Jake discovered that Donovan had been taken to the trauma center a few miles from campus.  There were no updates about his condition, and as far as any of them knew, he was either dead or would be DOA when he reached the hospital.  He glanced at Loralei.  She had begun to wring her hands, grinding the grime even deeper into her skin.  There was nothing he could say to her that would alleviate her stress or pain.  He pressed his foot down on the accelerator, hoping to arrive not long after the ambulance.  He screeched into the parking lot and sighed sadly.  The last time they had been here, it was Loralei strapped to a gurney and Donovan losing his mind.  He moved quickly to the passenger side and opened the door before she could go off running inside.  Both of them noticed the ambulance parked up against the emergency entrance.  She wanted to run toward it, but Jake held her back, steering her toward the other entrance.  Once inside, they noticed Alex coming down the hallway opposite them.  There were only a few people scattered in the waiting room, and all of them fixed their eyes on Loralei's muddy condition.

Alex went to her friend and noticed that she needed answers, answers that Alex did not have.  "Come on, Loralei," Alex said, "There's nothing you can do right now.  Come on, let's see if we can get you cleaned up."

"No," Loralei groaned, "I don't care," she said in tears.  "I have to know…I have to see him.  Please."

"They won't let you, honey, not like this," she said.  "Come on.  I'll help, okay?"

She gasped, remembering something.  "Oh God.  Tristan?  Rachel?"

"It's okay, Loralei.  I'll call Angie.  It'll be all right."

*  *  *

Time passed slowly that day.  How much time?  Loralei didn't know.  The hospital had allowed her to shower and had even provided her with a scrub outfit.  None of it mattered.  She would have just as easily waited in muddy clothing.  It was of little consequence.  She stood with her knee propped solidly into a waiting room chair.  She stared blankly out of the window with her arms wrapped around her body.  She was hugging herself, shielding herself from the brutal reality of never seeing her husband alive again.  She was simply waiting for the final word.  She put her hand up to her heart.  After a moment, she brought her other hand up and laid it onto her wedding and engagement rings.  She touched them, feeling that connection to her husband in an inanimate object.  She wanted to see her children, to hold them and kiss them, but she didn't know if she had the heart for it.  If Rachel mentioned her daddy [and she surely would], Loralei could not hold it together.

"Loralei?"

She gasped.  That voice.  Frank?  A glimmer of hope embraced her, but when she turned around, it faded to complete blackness.  It wasn't her husband.  It was Farron.  The fine line holding her together snapped.  Her face went into her hands again and she sobbed uncontrollably.  How awful it was to hear his voice without it belonging to him.  As if it could be his anyway.  

Instinctively knowing what caused her break, Farron approached her from behind and laid his hands on her shoulders.  For once, he found his connection with his brother to be disheartening, especially in this situation with his shattered wife.  She didn't want to be comforted or held or placated.  She wanted to go back in time and let Donovan pull her over the edge with him.  After a moment, the steady pressure of Farron's hands felt warm and comforting, so close…yet so far away.  Giving up for the moment, she turned toward her brother in-law and allowed him to hold her.


	11. Numbness

AUTHOR'S NOTE:  Some of the material toward the middle of this chapter might offend some readers.  It is not my intention to offend anyone.  Be Fehrly [okay lame] warned.  THANKS!

*  *  *

NUMBNESS

Farron looked up when he saw Kara entering the ER waiting room.  A few months ago, his brother had given them a spare key to the house due to their frequent babysitting duties when Angie wasn't available.  Kara had stopped by Frank and Loralei's and gathered some clothing for their sister in-law.  In the baggy hospital scrubs, Loralei looked very young, child-like.  Farron had finally convinced her to sit down, but she refused to relax.  She couldn't.  She sat on the edge of a hard plastic couch, her body drawn up tensely.  She had stopped crying a few moments ago, but it wouldn't take much to make her cry again.  He exchanged a knowing glance with Kara and shook his head.  It was funny how people learned secret signals undetectable to the grieving mind.  Loralei hadn't noticed Kara's arrival, she was barely aware of Farron's presence beside her.  She was back on the roof, back in time, falling with him.  She had to shake it off.  There were two children depending on her and she couldn't ignore them regardless of her mental state.  She would go to them as soon as she could.  She barely moved when Kara sat on the other side of her.  Her sister in-law reached out and placed her hand on top of Loralei's.  Loralei glanced up at Kara vaguely; her hand was warm and limp.  Kara couldn't imagine how she'd feel if she were in the same position as Loralei.  She didn't want to think about it.  

"I brought some of your clothes from home," Kara said.  "You can change into them whenever you're ready.  I checked in on the children on the way over, and they're fine."

Loralei nodded.  "Thank you," she whispered.  "I appreciate it."  Absently, she took the small overnight bag that Kara was still clutching in her right hand.  Did she actually have the energy to get dressed?  She wouldn't move a muscle until the hospital told her _something_.  The waiting was the true torture.  If he was dead, they needed to spill it, not hold back.  Damn it.  She had to know.  Her brother and sister in-law flanked her on each side now, offering comfort and support.  She glanced around the room and noticed that it was filled with the other team members.  She literally had a whole family here.  Look what her husband had done.  Look at how many people he had touched and brought together.  Would they ever see him again?  She wasn't stupid.  She knew he had fallen from a fairly good height.  _Shit.  Tell me something, **please**.  _"I'll hang onto this for later," she told Kara.  Feeling slightly suffocated, she moved away from the couch and the comforting nearness of Kara and Farron.  She had taken to staring out the window again.  How long would they make her wait?  Did they enjoy putting them through such agony?  She hugged herself again, running her hands along her arms as if she were trying to brush away a hard chill.  _Frank, wherever you are, I love you_.

*  *  *

Frank Donovan was conscious, not in the physical sense, but perhaps the mental one.  The neurons in his brain were busily firing, bringing in little clips of his past and present.  He had heard of people seeing their lives flash before their eyes, and he supposed it was happening to him now.  He saw himself and Farron as children, arguing over a stupid toy, and then it changed to the night he was gunned down in his mother's front yard.  He saw Farron saving his life, killing Pablo Dominguez.  The neurons fired again, and he watched as he hugged Farron for helping his wife.  There was Loralei, a vision so clear and beautiful, comforting.  He watched the births of his children again and felt a renewed sense of love and joy.  He cried for them, mentally reaching out to touch them one more time before the light died.  The worse thing about leaving this world was the thought of never seeing his wife and children again, but it wasn't anything he could control.  Vaguely, from far, far away, he heard the voices of the medical team trying to save his life.  They were frantically shouting "flat line…flat line."  Flat line?  Didn't that mean his heart had stopped beating?  The neurons fired again and he was taken back to his wedding.  His beautiful, beautiful Loralei.  Dying had made him privy to several pieces of information he hadn't had access to ever before.  She knew she was pregnant at the wedding.  She had kept it locked inside for two weeks or more.  She was a sly, sly woman.  He loved her so much, he would miss her forever.  The neurons fired yet again, probably for the last time as he saw a rather beautiful face.  At first, he thought he was looking at Loralei again.  She had the same dark auburn hair, vibrant green eyes, and peachy skin.  There were a few exceptions.  Her face was adorned with very high and sharp cheekbones, and her body was lean and tall, much taller than Loralei.  This woman was familiar to him, yet not familiar at the same time.  Was she a woman?  At one moment, she came to him as a woman.  At another, her image would shift, and she'd become a little girl before reverting to an infant.  When he had visualized what his and Loralei's child would look like at her first pregnancy, this woman/girl/infant before him was exactly what he pictured.  How odd.

"Who are you," he asked this vision before him.  He hadn't actually moved his lips at all.  He had transmitted the thoughts through his mind and heard them aloud.

"You can consider me a guide of sorts," she answered.  Her voice was light and musical, just like Loralei's.  Unsettling.  "I'm stopping you before you move forward further.  You have three people depending on your love and presence."

"Who are you," he asked again.

"You know me as Wenona."

Wenona?  Where had he heard that name before?  No.  It couldn't be.  Before they even discovered Loralei was pregnant the first time, they had been idly discussing having children and she had gone out to buy a baby name book.  He sat up with her one night, choosing names at random, just to see how they'd sound with Donovan.  Loralei had placed her finger on one.  _This one, Wenona Donovan, like the singer, baby.  Look, it means first-born daughter_, she said, awed.  _You would want to name our daughter that, _Donovan had asked amusedly.  _I don't see why not?  Hey, at least no one would ever forget it.  What would you want to name her Frank, Frances Francine_, she'd shot back, imitating his patented eyebrow lift.  He was looking at their first child?  Their _lost_ child?  Rendered speechless, he didn't know what else to say.  He wanted to stay with her, to touch her, love her as he loved all his children, but it wasn't to be.  She reached out to him, placing her hand on his chest, as if beckoning him to go back.  The pressure was enormous, crushing.  _Damn it.  His ribs.  Broken.  Please stop.  You're killing me.  It hurts, goddamn you.  It huuuuuurts!  _Why were they doing this to him?  He didn't understand.

Donovan opened his eyes and noticed that he was laid out in a pristine white room.  He was in the hospital?  He had been more than certain he died.  He looked all around him for Wenona.  She obviously wasn't a part of the real world.  She was nothing more than a hallucination.  He was, after all, a realist.  He felt angered annoyance.  He couldn't move his body.  Either he was strapped down, or it simply wasn't listening to the cues his brain was giving it.  That thought worried him.  The attending physician and a few nurses caring for him came to his aid, thinking that he was having a seizure of some sort.  There was nothing wrong with him.  If they would let him off the bed, he could find his wife and get the hell out of here.  However, a deep, scraping pain in his chest abruptly put an end to his struggle.  Shit.  Broken fucking ribs.  For a brief moment, he watched helplessly as he was given an injection.  He couldn't fight it, he was absolutely physically unable.  Within seconds, he settled and fell into a deep, drugged sleep.    

*  *  *

With the exception of Kara, Farron, and Loralei, almost everyone else had fallen into a fitful sleep.  It had been hours and Loralei considered the wait a good sign.  However, she had no idea what was going on.  Apparently, the doctors had had to do a ton of work on him.  She watched, horrified, as several life saving teams and their equipment rushed toward the back of the hospital.  It could be anyone, she knew this, but she was more than convinced that it was Donovan.  Somewhere back there, her husband was dying, and she was stuck at the fucking front of the hospital helpless and afraid.  She tried to sit still, but couldn't.  As much as her husband [_You're rubbing off on me, Donovan_], she began to pace about the room, seemingly making big circles around the empty floor space.  Kara and Farron watched her sympathetically, wanting to do something to comfort her, but nothing short of a miracle would offer that to her.  She stopped pacing long enough to approach the window.  God.  She was completely out of her mind.  If they didn't tell her something soon, she would fucking demand an update.  She was his damn wife for God's sake.  Needing a center of gravity, a slice of sanity, she looked back at her brother and sister in-law.  Without a word to either of them, she took hold of Cody's cell phone sticking haphazardly out of his back pocket.  She held it up to them so they'd know she wasn't running off.  She intended to call Angie and find out about the children.  Although too young to understand, she realized that they would both be aware something wasn't right in their world.  Loralei had barely gotten to the door when Farron's voice called her back.  She turned, ready to wave him off, and was glad she didn't.  It was an attending physician.  God. After an eternity, she would finally receive the update she needed and feared.

*  *  *

He held onto her hand tightly, knowing deep down inside that she could never help him, never pull him up.  What could he do?  He could take her with him, die with her in his arms, or he could die for her, for the children.  What kind of life would they have without their parents?  He couldn't do that to her, couldn't harm her in any way.  There had never been any other choice for him.  Steeling himself, giving his wife one last, loving look, he pulled free of her.  He was a realist, but he hung onto the hope that the beam would support him just long enough for him to get a firm grasp on a stronger one to pull his own body up and over.  For whatever reasons known to fate and man, it wasn't to be.  He felt his hand slipping, heard the beam cracking.  It was over.  Why fight destiny?  It would win every time.  As he was falling down to the muddy ground, he didn't scream, didn't breathe, and didn't blink.  A thousand thoughts rushed through his mind, most of them centering on his wife and children.  He was leaving them behind.  It was the thought that horrified him the most.  He could think of nothing else.  Loralei.  Tristan.  Rachel.  He loved them so very much.  When he landed on his back, his head cracked against something hard, before his body rebounded and landed on its side.  He felt the agonizing pain of a rib [or two or three or four] cracking.  He felt a tingling sensation in his lower back, and for a horrifying moment, he couldn't move.  His vision was becoming dim.  Within that dimness came light.  That light was his family.  Loralei.  Tristan.  Rachel.  Would he ever see them again?  Would he ever love them again?  Tiredly, he rested his cheek against the soggy ground.  Perhaps it wouldn't hurt if he laid here for a few hours and napped.  Yes.  A short nap and then he would go to his wife, to his Loralei.  Blackness touched him and became his close, intimate friend.

*  *  *

Loralei sat in a chair she had dragged close to his bedside.  Nervously, she leaned forward on her elbows.  She chewed on the ball of her thumb as she rocked back and forth.  Would he ever open his eyes?  Would he ever look at her?  His condition was sketchy at best, but at least he was alive.  His injuries would heal in time, but there was one thing bothering them all.  He had sustained slight bruising to his spine, and no one was certain what would happen.  The next few days would be critical.  The only thing that saved him from snapping his spine clean in two was the mud.  If he had fallen on solid ground, he would have died.  She wanted to reach out and take his hand, but she was instructed not to touch him, not just yet.  It was killing her.  Just hours before, she thought he was dead, but she had been spared that horror.  However, she had to face another horror, no touching.  She wanted to touch him, to prove to herself that he was actually alive and breathing.  She had no idea that her thoughts were in line with Donovan's so very long ago when the situations were reversed.  She watched curiously as his eyeballs moved back and forth beneath his closed lids.  She wondered what kind of dreams and images were assaulting him.  _God, won't you open your eyes and look at me_?  In all the years they had known each other, she had never seen him in a hospital bed, and she didn't like it.  She didn't like the way his olive complexion seemed to dull, the way his breathing seemed labored.  However, she could deal with every single bit of it.  He was alive.  He had not left her or the children.  Nothing else mattered.

During his drugged slumber, Loralei didn't leave his side.  Every now and then, Farron was allowed back, but he only lingered a few moments.  He couldn't deal with the sight of his otherwise strong brother so very beaten down.  It was heart wrenching.  He didn't understand where Loralei found the strength.  His Kara, his Shel, was just as strong.  They were both very lucky men.  Before exiting a third time, Loralei accepted a long hug from her brother in-law.

"Thank you, Farron," she said through tears.  "Thank you and Kara both.  I don't know what I would have done without you."

"You do what you can for family," he said gently.  "It took a long time for me to learn that, but now that I have, I don't ever want to release it."  He glanced back at Donovan's prone body.  "_Yo lo amo, mi hermano. Sea fuerte. Regrese a nosotros._"  ["I love you, my brother.  Be strong.  Come back to us."]  With one final nod toward his sister in-law, he left them alone.

The painkillers made his eyelids feel as if they weighed a ton, however, he struggled with them and brought them open slowly.  Donovan thought he had heard his brother speaking Spanish to him.  Had he been dreaming?  Was it part of the weird vision he had had?  He blinked two or three times before he gained control of his eyelids.  He opened them wide and glanced around the room.  Loralei was seated close to him, her knees drawn up before her, her head resting on them.  She was crying.  Nothing ate at him more than listening to his wife cry.  He couldn't stand it.  He wanted to comfort her, but he couldn't move.  His wrists were restrained and his lower body wouldn't move at all.  What the hell was happening to him?  Damn it.  Why couldn't he go to her, hold her?  

Loralei's head shot up.  If the situation weren't so serious, the effect might have been comical.  She thought she heard Donovan moan.  When she looked at him, his eyes were closed tightly again.  The stress had made her hallucinate.  She had nearly lowered her head back down to her knees when she heard the noise again.  This time when she looked up, his eyes were opened, but unfocused.  He was struggling weakly against the wrist braces, apparently not understanding why he couldn't move.  She stood up slowly, backing the chair away.  How she ached to touch him.  She wished the doctors knew his prognosis.  This was torture of another kind.  

"Frank," she whispered.  "Baby?"

He heard the soft, musical voice.  A smile touched his lips.  "Wenona?"

The name sent chills down her spine.  She hadn't heard it uttered in over two years.  Why would he suddenly utter it again?  Dear God, what happened to him?  "Na-no," she whispered, her voice shaky, her body covered in chill bumps.  "Frank, it's Loralei."

"Loralei," he said.  "Where am I?"  In his drugged state, he believed he was still wavering on the plane between life and death.  He saw Wenona, their daughter, shadowing his wife's body.  His smile fell away.  He knew he wouldn't see her again, not for a while.  "Until then, my beautiful daughter," he said.

She stood back and gazed down at his face.  He was looking at a point behind her where nothing lurked but medical equipment.  _Until then, my beautiful daughter_.  Who was he talking to?  Rachel?  Yet, she was certain it wasn't Rachel.  Wenona?  Their first child?  The baby she'd miscarried?  Impossible.  Completely impossible.  She started to speak, but the words refused to leave her throat.  She swallowed a lump that had formed there, one that had choked her effectively.  "You're in the hospital, Frank," she said.  "You were pushed off a building."

Ah yes.  He remembered now.  He had wanted to remember nothing about that, but it all came rushing back.  He had recalled seeing Loralei falling, thinking that she had been tossed over the side.  Instead, he had gone over.  Yes.  It was coming back to him, slowly but surely.  "Why can't I…why can't I move?"  She didn't immediately answer, she couldn't.  The silence was deafening.  "_Tell me_," he demanded weakly, his voice dry and cracking.

"Frank, I think…"

"Loralei, if you love me, tell me."  

"The fall, you…you landed badly."  She sighed and fought back her tears.  She couldn't talk to him this way.  If she did, nothing would make sense.  "Something happened to your spine, an injury…"

Before she could say any more, he interrupted her.  "I'm paralyzed," he asked in stunned disbelief.

She scrubbed the tears out of her eyes.  "Frank, we…we don't know yet.  There was some…some bruising, and we can't predict what will happen.  It may only be temporary paralysis.  Nothing more than that."

No.  He wasn't hearing this.  This wasn't happening.  "But it could also be permanent.  Just say it.  You're my wife, Loralei, don't bullshit me."

"Yes.  It…it could."

He turned his head away from her.  For the moment, his head and upper body was all he could move, and he couldn't move much of that with his wrists in the damn braces.  He chewed on his bottom lip mercilessly.  How could he be a proper husband and father if he was half a man?  _How_?  Damn it.  Damn it all to hell.  "_Get me out of these_," he commanded through gritted teeth.  He was straining against the braces desperately.  

She exhaled a deep breath and chased away her tears.  This time, he would listen to _her_.  She wouldn't have it any other way.  "No," she said firmly, stubbornly.  "I can't.  I won't.  The slightest movement could break the fine line between temporary and permanent.  They stay on until we have a definite answer."  

Donovan turned his head back toward her.  She stood with her fists planted firmly on her hips, her foot aching to tap impatiently.  "I mean it," he said.  "Get them off."

"And I mean it when I say no.  I won't take them off.  For once, Frank Donovan, shut your mouth and follow someone else's orders for a change.  They come off when we receive an answer."

"What if one never comes," he asked softly.

There were tears shining in his eyes.  He was so scared.  She had never seen such fear in his eyes before.  "Then you'll spend eternity in them, and I'll be right here to ensure that you do."  


	12. Answers And Decisions

ANSWERS & DECISIONS

Two days later, there had been no change in Donovan's condition.  Loralei left Farron in charge of Donovan as she left to run a few errands.  Her first stop was the university.  She went to President Metzger's office and handed him her letter of resignation.  She wouldn't continue here.  Mord had taken away too much from her and her family.  After leaving the office, she drove downtown toward Angie's.  It was time to retrieve the kids and take them home.  Their Aunt Kara had volunteered to sit with the children.  When she saw her children, she hugged Rachel close to her before cradling her son against her.  God, she had missed them.  She could only imagine how her husband felt.  Soon enough, he would see them again, even if she had to sneak them inside his hospital room.  She loaded the kids in the car and drove them back to the hospital where Kara was waiting.  Although she appeared utterly exhausted, Kara took to the task of sitting with the children as if she had the energy of ten women.  She left with both babies in tow.  _She and Farron need to have a child_, Loralei thought.  _They really do_.  She found her way back to her husband's room and noticed that he was sleeping again.  Farron nodded toward her, and he took the unspoken hint and left them alone.  Donovan's doctors were trying to keep him quiet and calm.  Her husband had spent a good portion of the last two days ignoring her or sleeping.  He had trouble facing her and kept his head turned away.  It hurt.  Whenever she tried to speak to him, he would beg off, stating that he was too tired.  His behavior almost startled her, but she remained steadfast.

Donovan came awake slowly.  He had refused an injection earlier.  There was no way he wanted to stay zoned out of his mind.  However, he was very tired and could easily sleep without it.  He sensed his wife's presence before he even laid eyes on her.  At that moment, he couldn't look at her.  He was mired in self-pity.  It was something he couldn't help.  He hadn't doubted for one second that the paralysis was permanent.  He thought of his body and was disgusted.  He had lost almost all function and machines were taking care of his basic needs, those he rarely thought about doing.  He just did them.  Would she want him like this?  How _could_ she want him like this?  He was almost as helpless as his infant son.  Was that what she wanted?  A grown man reduced to infancy?  She deserved better, deserved more.  He couldn't put her through this.  It pained him to have these horrid thoughts rushing through his mind, but he couldn't help it.  If he couldn't be the husband he wanted, the father he needed to be, they would all be better off without him.  It was irrational, but the only thought feasible in his mind right now.  Two days had been enough time to receive the proper answers.  The longer they waited, the more he was convinced of his condition.  It was over.  His life had been spared, but only to cause more pain, and the end of his marriage.  He would have rather died.  _You're feeling sorry for yourself, Donovan.  _Fuck off.  He closed his eyes again, hoping that Loralei hadn't detected the slight fluttering motion of his eyes.  She wasn't stupid.  He knew she had seen him, but would she speak?  She had tried to get inside him for the past two days, and he had shoved her away repeatedly.  She was stubborn and persistent.  He had been vaguely appreciative of that behavior in the past, but he now found it annoying rather than endearing.  They were only delaying the inevitable.  She loved him, he knew that, and she would remain by his side for as long as it took, but he was afraid she would come to resent him, to resent the half man he had become.  He couldn't live with that idea, either.  He considered what he wanted to say for a very long time.  It was a simple four-word sentence that was more of a demand, actually.  He thought he would never hear himself say it in his lifetime, not to Loralei, but the words bubbled up to the surface, bubbled up and spilled over like boiling acid.

"I want a divorce," he said. 

His words spilled forth so suddenly, she wasn't sure she had actually heard them correctly.  Surely she had hallucinated the whole thing.  He hadn't actually asked for a divorce, had he?  _Had he_?  She wanted to see his eyes on that one, but he had turned his head away from her again.  "Frank?  What did you say?"

He hated the fucking wrist braces.  If he could ever have them removed just once…  _Please don't make me say it again.  I don't know if I could live through it_.  Shit.  He bit down on his bottom lip.  To his chagrin, he noticed that it was quite sore and a bit swollen.  He had been chewing on it a lot for the past two days.  "_I want a divorce_," he spat emphatically as if he were speaking to child.  "I won't say it again."

Her hand flew up to her mouth.  She kept it there for the briefest of moments.  "A divorce?  Frank?  What the hell?  Why?  Because of this?  Because of what happened?  Damn it, Frank."  She wanted to scream, shout, and cry at the same time.  "You don't speak to me for two days straight and when you do, you drop this bombshell?  Tell me why.  Give me a damn good reason."

"Isn't what you see reason enough," he asked, his voice low and severe.  

"Frank, what I see is the man I love acting like a jackass.  Do you think for one moment I care what condition your body is in?  Do you think that will make me love you any less?  _Do you_?  Do you think that will make your children love you any less?  What kind of wife would I be if I deserted you?  No Frank, I won't divorce you.  Don't ever say that word in my presence again."

"This is not optional, there are no choices here.  I know what I want and what I need, and right now, it's a complete break from this marriage.  You can't live with me like this, and I can't stand the thought of burdening you for the rest of your life.  I won't do it.  I won't ever let that happen.  How the hell do you expect me to chase after the kids like this?  I can't do it to you or them.  I'm useless to you all.  I can't ever imagine never making love to you again, not like I want.  I have absolutely no control over my body, don't you understand?  I can't, Loralei, I _can't_.  Make it easy on yourself.  Leave now while you can, while I have the courage to do this."

She shook her head, completely convinced she was dreaming the whole thing.  "No."

He clenched his fists feebly within the braces.  How could he make her understand?  What would it take?  How many times during their relationship had he literally roared at her?  He could probably count them on one hand.  "Get out, Loralei," he said.  "Get out _now_," he yelled.  He couldn't shove her away with his hands, so he would use words instead.  "_Get out_."

She didn't want to leave him, not while his irrationality was running so rampant, but his face was reddening due to the strain, and despite what he thought, there was still a chance that he would regain sensation at any time.  On weakened, shaky legs, she left his room.  What the hell was she going to do?  It was as if she thought he was dead all over again.  Confused and more than devastated, she stumbled down the hall toward the waiting room.  It had emptied considerably in the past two days.  Only Cody and Farron remained.  The rest of the team had gone back to the nest.  Curiously, the two men watched as Loralei walked into the room, resembling a shell-shocked soldier.  She didn't seem to know where she was going or where she had been.  In fact, she smacked right into Cody as if she hadn't noticed him at all.  She rebounded quickly, apologizing distractedly.  Both men watched as she collapsed to the hard couch.  Taking the initiative first, Farron approached his sister in-law and sat down beside her.  He noticed that she had wrapped her arms around herself again and rocked inconsolably.  She hadn't acted like this since first coming to the hospital when she thought her husband was dead.  

"Loralei?  What's wrong," Farron asked.

She looked into his chocolate brown eyes, so like his brother's, yet so different.  "It's Frank, Farron.  He…he…"  Her words dried up for a moment as she tried to gather her wits.  She still had trouble dealing with what just happened between her and Donovan.  "He's been ignoring me for two days, shutting me out, and I went along with that.  I know how hard it's been for him, but…uh God."  She wiped her tears out of her eyes.  She couldn't do this.  Couldn't fall apart during her husband's temporary insanity.  "He started talking crazy, talking like I'd desert him.  He wants to divorce me, Farron, divorce me because he doesn't want to burden me."  She exhaled deeply, calming down just a bit.  "_Burden me_?  What does he mean?  He's never a burden.  Damn it.  Never!  He wants to walk away from the kids and me just like that, because he doesn't think we want him like he is.  What the hell is he thinking?"

His stubborn, stubborn brother.  He could not see the gifts before him.  He remembered when Frank had spoken to him before he had gotten the guts to propose to Kara.  How could the man back then speak so passionately about a woman only to shove her away as if she were nothing to him?  His stubborn prick brother.  How could he hurt his wife so much?  He had made many stupid mistakes when he first met Kara, and he could never imagine hurting her like that again, hurting her like Loralei was hurt.  "I'll go see him.  Maybe I should have my own heart to heart with him, eh?"

She shook her head.  "He won't listen to you, Farron.  I don't think he'll listen to anyone."

"All I can do is try.  Let me see if I can redeem myself more, huh," he asked with a gentle smile.  

Donovan looked up as his room door came open.  He was readying to scream out again, because he expected his visitor to be Loralei.  Instead, he was greeted with the face of his twin.  He had no patience for his brother, either.  Why wouldn't they leave him alone?  Why wouldn't they allow him to wallow until he grew sick of the stench?  He closed his eyes and decided to will himself to sleep.  Perhaps if Farron thought he was out, he'd go away.  As he listened to his brother shuffling around the room, he realized that there was no way in hell he intended to go away, not now, not for a while.  However, that was fine with him.  He could ignore Farron as easily as he had ignored his wife [_was that easy_].  Farron dragged Loralei's chair over to the bedside.  Impatiently, he leaned over the railing on the hospital bed.  He watched Donovan for several minutes.  He knew his brother was awake, why was he hiding?  He was utterly stubborn and could sometimes be as dumb as a brick.  

"I know you're faking," Farron began amusedly.  "I saw you look up.  You've hurt your wife beyond reason.  You realize that, don't you?"  Nothing.  Donovan continued to ignore, ignore, ignore.  Farron shook his head and smiled ever so bitterly.  "Okay.  If you must play this game, I can play along.  I was once pretty damn good at games, wasn't I?  If you won't talk to me, I'll talk to you.  I have your complete attention."  He sighed a little and adjusted his position just the slightest bit.  "You're a goddamn idiot, Frank.  That woman would die for you.  You have two of the most beautiful children I have ever seen, and yes I'm biased since they are my nephew and niece.  You want to throw it all away because of an unexpected setback?  I never took you for a coward.  I thought that was my role within this family, but you've claimed it and made it your own, haven't you?"  Nothing.  Donovan's face was rigid and blank.  "So go ahead and divorce your wife, tear apart the stability of your home, hurt your children, do whatever it takes to meet your selfish need.  I've thrown away a lot of opportunities that fell into my lap because I didn't want it.  I saw what you had with your wife and your children, and I longed for the same.  Thank God I came to my senses and found Kara.  Wake up.  Don't turn her away, not when you need each other the most."  When that didn't shake his brother, Farron stood and sighed heavily.  Loralei had been right.  He wasn't listening to anyone.  "I'll leave you, but before I go out to see the wreck you've made of your wife, I want you to consider one thing.  Remember the story you told me about Loralei's shooting?  About the night she nearly died before you told her you loved her?  Remember that?  If you can turn her away after that, you are a cold, cold man.  You didn't give up on her then, why would you do it now?"

He literally threw up his hands in defeat.  Nothing could be done.  He supposed his stubborn brother had made up his mind.  Farron moved toward the door.  With his back turned, he didn't see the bitter trickle of tears touching Donovan's cheeks.  He couldn't reach up to brush them away, so they fell freely.  He listened as his brother drew nearer and nearer toward the door.  In a few short seconds, he would be gone.  Part of him wanted to let him go.  He would simply move forward with his plans and end his marriage without a second thought.  The other part, the one dominating him, cried out to his brother, to his wife.  His body was so messed up and his mind muddled, he didn't know what the hell he wanted.  He was scared and definitely didn't like that feeling.  He had never liked it.  Donovan heard the soft _whishing_ sound the door made as it came open.  It was now or never.

"Farron, wait," Donovan called, his weakened voice now choked with tears.  Farron stopped at the door, allowing it to close behind him.  "I need her," he said softly.  "I need her, but she can't live with me like this.  I can't live with her.  She needs more, deserves more."

Farron approached the bedside again.  "Stop thinking so damn much.  Stop analyzing every damn thing in your life.  Your wife has her own mind, her own wants, needs, and desires.  I'm sure she has shared them with you.  Let her decide when she has had enough.  Don't make that decision for her.  Don't throw it away.  Embrace her, Frank.  Take her and embrace her.  Don't be stupid; don't do what I did for years and years.  You don't want to end up like I was, do you?  You have two choices right now.  I can walk out and you can proceed with your insane plan to divorce her, or I can go out there, tell her to come to you, and you can tell her you love her, that you were wrong.  I cannot make this decision for you."

Would she even consent to seeing him after he had spoken to her so harshly?  God.  He felt lower than low.  "Send her if she'll come to me," he said.

Without a word, Farron moved away from his brother's bedside and he made his way out the door.  He laid in wait, but he wasn't sure for how long.  If she didn't come to him, he couldn't blame her.  He had been a shit, an evil shit, and if she walked out right then and there, he'd understand.  Why had he allowed his self-pity to get the better of him?  He fell asleep waiting.

When he awoke, it was dark.  He'd been asleep for hours.  Loralei had gone back to her customary seat close to the bedside.  What could he say to her?  He had hurt her so very badly.  It was written in her eyes, on her face, and in her body language.  Jesus.  Had he ever hurt her so badly before?  Just hours ago, he couldn't look at her, he had demanded a divorce, and now, he couldn't tear his eyes off her.  "I'm sorry," he whispered.  "I never wanted to throw you away."

"It felt that way," she whispered back, hurt incredibly.  "It seemed as if our entire relationship never mattered to you."

"Baby, it means everything to me.  I just didn't want you to be unhappy, to have regrets because of this."

"Unhappy," she said incredulously.  "_Unhappy_?  You nearly died for me and you think I'd become unhappy?"

"I love you, Loralei.  I can't live without you."

*  *  *

Donovan awoke with a start.  Something had tweaked him, pricked him.  He was almost certain that his leg had jerked.  Impossible.  He hadn't been able to move his leg in two days.  He waited for it to happen again.  He glanced at Loralei.  She had fallen asleep in the uncomfortable chair.  "Loralei," he called.  "_Loralei_.  Wake up."

She came awake suddenly, terror entering her.  "What?  Is something wrong?"

"I don't know," he said.  "Watch my right leg.  I think it twitched."

She stared intently at his legs.  Had it twitched or had he dreamt it?  It didn't move again, but another idea came to mind.  If his leg twitched, he would feel her hand upon it.  She reached over and ran her hand along his leg.  "Do you feel it?"

He nodded.  "Yes.  Thank God.  Yes."

*  *  *

Loralei and Donovan stood in front of the Central office.  The arm around Loralei's waist tightened.  She looked up at him.  His face was a bit pained, but his expression was determined.  It had been three weeks since his release from the hospital, and he had healed beautifully.  After the sensation returned in his leg, different parts of his body began to regain feeling little by little.  Eventually, the wrist braces were removed, and he had never felt more grateful.  Finally, after several days, he touched his wife, and held her in his arms.  The first time he kissed her, it seemed as if he had touched heaven, and he didn't doubt that he had.  He didn't remember much about his experiences in triage, but every now and then, he'd awaken from a dream with the name 'Wenona' just behind his lips.  Some day soon, he would tell Loralei about her.  Perhaps it would offer her comfort on the nights she was haunted by her own nightmares.  His lost child had led him back into the arms of his family, and he would never forget that.  Every night, he embraced his children and held them close, relishing their innocence and unconditional love.  He was more than happy to allow Rachel to shampoo her hair [and his as well] with a mashed banana now and again, more than happy to comfort his wailing infant son.  What he'd nearly lost was regained, and he made a few decisions that would have to be dealt with.  A fall that should have killed him didn't, and they both counted their lucky stars on a nightly basis.  For all their bitching about the fall rains, Loralei was more than grateful and would never complain about it again.

"Babe, are you sure about this," Loralei asked.

He nodded before looking down at her.  "Yes, very much so.  When I fell, all I could think about was you and the children.  I never want to come that close to losing you again.  Two close calls are enough, Loralei.  At this point, I think quitting is the best thing for me to do.  I'm sick of putting my family in jeopardy and I'm tired of arguing with Shoemaker."

Before they climbed the stairs [Shoemaker was expecting them], she leaned up and kissed his cheek.  "Why don't you think about it first?  Take some time off; let's get away for a while, so you can think.  Put off your decision until then.  Make sure before you jump in."

He smiled a little, so very appreciative of her support.  God, had he ever loved her more?  "My mind is made up, but I'll think about it before I make a final decision.  Where would you like to go?"

"Somewhere warm, tropical, and private.  And you?"

"Wherever you are, that's where I'll be."


	13. A Brother's Plea

A BROTHER'S PLEA

Alex, Jake, Cody, and Monica sat around the conference table with a pot of coffee set out before them.  They stared at the coffee pot.  They had all been hitting it pretty heavily, and had really attacked it with relish in the last few hours.  None of them wanted to be the first to speak.  It had been a tense and stressful time.  The doubts about Donovan's condition had caused more discord than anything.  They had watched a dead man recover, a paralyzed man walk away.  And now, they were faced with a faxed letter that Donovan had sent them from some remote tropical island where he and his family had escaped two weeks ago.  Currently, Cody was holding the note and he had read it nine dozen times, and had somehow found the energy to read it again.  

"So, it's true," Jake finally said, piping up first.  "He's really doing it.  It's not just an upper brass rumor?"

"It appears to be the truth, according to this fax," Cody said as he tapped the page.  Cody stared down at the faxed note again.  Damn.  When would he grow tired of reading it?  _Two weeks ago, I had my mind made up, _Donovan had written_.  I had written out a resignation letter and was prepared to present it to Shoemaker when I asked for leave time.  Loralei talked me out of it and asked that I take this time away to consider it.  I have done just that.  My mind hasn't changed.  As soon as I return, I will resign and leave you, wishing you all the best.  I think it's time for my family and I to move on, to live our lives as intended._  "God, he can't really mean this, can he?"

Monica nodded.  "He can and does."

The team didn't realize that Farron and Kara had received a similar fax, but a more personalized version.  Like Cody, Farron stared down at the paper and read the note a dozen times or more.  _I nearly died and lost the most important people in my life.  You talked great sense into me, and for that, I will be forever indebted to you.  Once ashamed to be your brother, I am now proud and grateful that you are back in my life.  I don't know what I would have done without you.  I know our bond has just been rebuilt from mere ashes, but I have to tell you that I don't intend to return to Chicago.  Call it running, grief, fear, or whatever, but I just can't see myself back there again.  I want to focus on the important things in life, the **real** things, the family I nearly tossed away.  Maybe I'll make my way back, maybe not.  Until then, I want you and Kara to stay at the house until we return to close everything down.  Thank you, Farron.  I love you very much, and I'm sorry it took so long for me to realize it. _

Each time Farron read the fax, he nearly broke down in tears.  His brother no more wanted to leave Chicago than any other person in town.  He was hurting and probably felt a bit scorned.  When he thought of Kara and the changes that were about to occur, he realized that he had never needed his brother in his life more than he did right at that second.

*  *  *

Donovan groaned a little when he felt the strong beams of sunlight shining on his face.  Loralei had apparently risen before him and opened them.  He smiled a little.  She certainly knew how to pay him back for all his early morning risings, didn't she?  He stretched a little and turned to his back.  He noticed that the little bungalow was quiet and peaceful.  From his vantage point, he could see Tristan's crib.  He brought his body up to a sitting position and swung his legs over the side of the bed.  He grabbed his discarded pajama bottoms and slipped into them.  He crept into the open and airy room that served as both a nursery and a bedroom for Rachel.  As he shut the window in the room, he walked over to his son's crib.  Tristan slept soundly, his tiny fist grasping his blanket for dear life.  Although his movements would probably awaken his son, he didn't care.  He leaned over and ran his thumb across his forehead.  The slight touch didn't disturb Tristan in the slightest.  He turned and reentered the bedroom, making his way over to a window closest to the front door.  The early morning breeze was blowing through the window, rustling the curtains.  He contemplated closing it as well, but an all too familiar squeal and giggle stopped him.  He pulled the curtain back and found a smile touching his lips.  Loralei and Rachel were out on their tiny strip of private beach playing happily in the sand.  His two-year-old daughter was trying to bury her mother in the sand, but wasn't making much progress.  It seemed that Mommy's legs were just a tad bit too long.  He chuckled at first and then laughed out loud.  Damn.  It felt good to laugh, to be alive, to be happy.

At the intrusive sound, Tristan began to cry just a little.  He backed away from the window and scooped his upset son into his arms.  As he had done many, many times with Rachel, he cradled the baby against his shoulder and gently patted his back.  "Shh," he said.  "It's okay.  I have a loud voice, I know.  I promise to work on it."  By the time Donovan made it to the door, Tristan had quieted again.  He opened the door and watched his wife and daughter with amused eyes.

Loralei looked up and smiled a little.  She touched her sand covered child.  "Hey, look who finally woke up."

She turned her little head toward her father.  Each tiny fist was filled with sand.  She had apparently been shampooing with that as well.  "Hi, Dah-dee," she squealed.

Loralei lifted Rachel into her arms and carried her back toward the doorway of the bungalow.  She watched as her husband shook his head amusedly at the sight of his daughter.  They'd be picking sand out of her clothes for weeks.  "Don't look at me like that," she said.  "So I indulged the kid.  Sue me.  Wanna trade for a second?"

He nodded.  "Of course."  Loralei set Rachel down just long enough to take Tristan.  Donovan lifted up his daughter and brushed about a handful of sand off her shoulder.  Despite the sand, he kissed her cheek anyway.  "Hi, baby," he said softly.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and squeezed with all her might.  "Lub Dah-dee," she said against his neck.

He closed his eyes and sighed, ridiculously close to tears.  "Daddy loves you too, baby."

*  *  *

A couple of days later, Loralei awoke in the middle of the night, immediately noticing Donovan's absence beside her.  She rose up on one elbow and saw him standing and staring out the window.  She hadn't seen him like this in weeks.  He had finally learned to relax and now he was tense again.  She knew exactly what was on his mind.  She slid out of bed and approached him from behind.  She wrapped her arms around his waist and placed a gentle kiss on his back.  He turned toward her and gathered her into his embrace.  For a long moment, he held onto her and placed a gentle kiss to her temple before pulling away.

She gazed up at him curiously.  She saw something in his eyes that hadn't been there just two weeks ago.  Homesickness.  "Are you okay?"

He nodded and exhaled a deep breath through his nose.  "I'm great."

"Are you?  You don't look so great," she said.

"I'm just thinking ahead, that's all.  The future is uncertain and unpredictable.  I hope I'm up to it, I hope we both are.  I've never thought of doing anything else with my life, but I know it's time to move on."  He took her hand and led it up to the middle of his chest.  "I feel it in here most of all."

"Are you sure it's not regret that you feel?  Are you sure you want to quit?  I know that you've basically said your goodbyes to the team and your brother, but is this what you truly want?  I know what happened scared you, but don't make the wrong choice for the right reasons.  You brought your position to our marriage.  I knew who you were before and I know who you are now.  There are risks in everything, even in the most mundane of jobs.  It's just a chance that you take.  I won't push you, Frank, I won't argue with you, but I want you to be damn certain before you see Shoemaker.  You've told your team, your brother, and me that your mind is made up, but I don't think it is.  You don't have to lie to yourself.  If you want it back, all you have to do is take it."

He took hold of her hand [the one still planted in the middle of his chest] and drew her to him again.  He kissed her gently, allowing his lips to move to the side of her neck, and then up to her ear.  "I do love you so very much."

"Me too, my love, me too."

*  *  *

Donovan grumbled incoherently as the phone began to ring shrilly.  Who the hell would call them so early?  Hadn't he unplugged the damn thing last night?  As he grabbed the receiver [hoping that it hadn't awakened the children], he glanced down.  Hell no.  He had forgotten.  He brought the phone up to his ear.  "This better be damn good," he growled into the phone, wondering who the stupid fucker was.

"I think it is," Farron said with a mild chuckle.

Farron?  What the hell?  "Do you realize what time it is?  There is a huge difference between here and there."  He sat up sleepily and ran his hand through his corkscrewed hair.  "Is everything okay?"  He had directed his brother to call only if something dire happened.

"Yes and no," he said.  "Frank I received your fax and I've been reading it over and over for the last two days.  I finally got the courage to call you.  I understand your need to move on and your reasoning behind it, but I must ask that you come back."

Donovan sighed.  "Farron, I don't think…"

"Frank, please hear me out," he said, interrupting him.  "How many times in my life have I come to you for selfish reasons?"

"Farron, this rehashing isn't necessary, we've moved past it, and I…"

He interrupted him again.  "Please, Frank, think about it.  How many times do you estimate?  Fifty?  Hundreds?  Thousands?  You know I've put most of that behind me, but this time, I'm coming to you again for purely selfish reasons.  I need your help one more time.  I need you in my life one more time."

Donovan's brow furrowed.  Surely he hadn't gotten into serious trouble again?  Who was after him now?  More of his former Colombian _hermanos_?  His brain ticked and calculated.  He felt like the old Frank Donovan again.  He nearly barked an order at Cody before he realized that he had left that life behind him.  "Who is it?  Who is targeting you now?"

Farron was touched by the deep concern in his brother's voice.  He couldn't imagine what was running through his mind right now.  "My wife."

Stunned, Donovan took the phone away from his ear, glanced at it stupidly, and then put it back up.  "Your wife?  Kara?  Farron, what the hell are you talking about?"

"For the past several months, I've seen how wonderful you are with your children.  You are a great father, one who I would like to be, but I need your help with that."

"Farron, what are you saying," he asked.

"I'm going to be a father.  Kara's pregnant, Frank, she's having twins."

Jesus.  What a bombshell.  Farron?  A father?  Twins?  "Farron, I don't know what to say."

"That's quite all right, I'm still shocked myself.  I'm a little nervous about fatherhood.  It's completely new territory for me.  It is one thing I haven't tried yet.  Don't leave Chicago, Frank, I need your help, your expertise.  I want to be as good to my children as you are to yours.  For that, I need you here."

Donovan was still quite a bit stunned about the revelation.  "Twins," he said, amazed.  "You will definitely have your hands full.  I'm amazed, but you soooo deserve it," he teased with a smile.

Farron chuckled.  "I suppose I do, huh?  We wanted children and now we're getting two at once.  It had to happen to one of us eventually."

He nodded, his tone serious again.  "Yes, it did.  I think it's wonderful, Farron, and I'm happy for you."  He rolled his eyes a little.  Jesus.  Was he crying?  "I'll come back.  I'll let you use me one last time."

"Thank you.  And Frank?  I'm also glad you're in my life again.  I feel as if a part of me has come back to life."

He impatiently swiped at a tear creeping down his cheek.  Yes.  He was crying.  "So do I."

With that, they ended the call.  Donovan was tempted to awaken Loralei and tell her the good news, but he hesitated.  Maybe for a few hours, it could remain a secret, a wonderful secret between two brothers.

***  *  ***

**FINIS**


End file.
